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Posted: Sun Oct 31, 2004 11:47 am


“What are you doing on my ship?” The words sat on Kalin’s shoulder like ice in a fierce storm, dreaded weight building up in sheets across his broad deltoids and clutching at his triceps. He turned quickly but saw nothing.

“I could have sworn…” he whispered to himself, and then stopped. There was somebody else on board this ship. A tall rake of a man? Clad in a long seaman’s cape that lost itself in the night mist.

“I heard that this ship belonged to a Captain of Umbar, you don’t look like an Umbariek” Kalin used the term for the lost children of Gondor. The figure never moved, but faded into the night.

“So where do we sail, if Captain you be? And under whose hire?” Kalin shifted, and placed his hand on his scimitar. He was beginning to feel unsafe, and uneasy about this figure. He reached his hand beneath his coat and clutched the fetish of Agwé, master of the seas. The figure recoiled, then flew at Kalin, who drew his scimitar to slice through the shape but met only air.

“Boienyte” he cursed, as the figure lashed at him with fingers of ice, and he fell back over coils of rope. He lashed out again, and thrust the fetish towards the figure chanting under his breath. It advanced again, and Kalin reached into a pocket and threw a choking powder at the form. It hissed, and Kalin struck again with his blade which was this time smeared with the powder. The figure retched, and leaned back to scream before it faded into the night.

Leaving Kalin to look at the spot where the vanishing reflection of the ghost cast a shadow on his eye. It was not a man, but a woman. Beautiful yet vicious, like a hunting panther. He shuddered, and looked at the road where he could hear voices approaching.



Kalin stood to welcome them onto the ship, but hung back to let them onboard. He could see the Halfling and the other elf woman struggle with the white haired beauty who he was sure would keep him warm on the long nights ahead. But it was Alandriel who caught his eye, and the man she escorted. Kalin smiled a deep smile, and looked at Arunakhôr. Captain of Harad, Master of the Bay of Belfalas, brought low by the war. How the pirate had escaped, Kalin did not know. He had fled from Pelargir in a scow, disguised from Gondorian persecution. But Arunakhôr was more prominent than he and should have hung a dozen times for his crimes. He knew the people of Umbar would gladly hand over such as him to the new authorities. He smiled, his gold tooth catching the light. He would turn a hefty profit when he handed that one in to that new viceroy.

“Ah, I see you finally made it down. I hope you had no trouble on the way Mistress Alandriel” He said stepping up to the red head.

“None, Mister Kalin. This is-“

“I know what it is Mistress. You are right to keep such as he from any sharp implements. I assume that you will be captain of this vessel then Poganin*, and I will take the position of mate. I think between us we should keep this ship afloat. But do you have plans for this Karaliji* of Umbar here?” he nodded towards Arunakhôr, his eyes glinting as the Black Numenorian snarled and twisted within his constraints.

“Do not trust this deck rat, Alandriel. My people call his type Jug Vetra*, an intermittent wind not to be trusted.” muttered Arunakhôr; his accent sharp with contempt. “He will take the position of captain as soon as we sail from the harbour, and by his look he is a bad captain to have. How many ships did you lose under you JuthJuth”. He laughed at Kalin’s reddening visage. Unbeknownst, the Black Numenorian had hit a sore point and the old nickname smarted. Following the disaster at Pelargir many of the Umbarian sailors had been called scorpions, he had hoped it would be forgotten.

“Ahh, you bring back old stories Tsiddii of the Ru-Lani-Lapu. I lost ships, but they were always in battle against the fleets of Gondor and Umbar, I was a man making my own way, not skulking along with the sea lords for pay and whores.”

“Odd, I heard that most of the ships of you Covshek-pust sank in harbour, usually when being built.” Arunakhôr leered horribly at Kalin, the snide haughtiness of his race spread across his face like a standard.

“The only harbour I lost a ship in was Pelargir. Forced to join the dark crusade, and my bilges filled with the serpent lords armies led by , and I was sank in battle with the honest soldiers of Gondor not fleeing with the pay chest like the Sea Lords of Umbar. We all saw you sails, and we know what curse was laid on your collective by the other captains. The ones the Black Numenorians left to die. “Kalin glowered, and spat at the feet of Arunakhôr, Sealord of Umbar.

“I know of no curse save the one about the Captain of Umbar where every ship he captains will sink. That wouldn't happen to be you would it. He is supost to be a scruffy street urchin with only the clothes on his back." smiling the pirate turned to look at the others and said loudly "It has been the tale of the South for twenty years, and I am more scared of that then any of the petty prestidigitation that some charlatan laid on the Sea Lords of Umbar.” He turned to face Alandriel, still conscious of the knife against his ribs “So Lady, you have the choice. You have need of a captain, but the two you have are under curses. What will be your choice?”

He looked at Alandriel who stared back. Behind her she was conscious of the milling group she had gathered. She looked at where Legyviel leaned on Jaeniver, her eyes alight on Kalin. And behind them stood the elder elves whose eyes showed nothing. Dindraug and Aglanor, who only stated at the sea and at her. They would be no help in this she could tell.



* Poganin- Pagan, literally none native. A term of Derision for foreigners. City dwellers call Black Numenorians this to antagonise.

*Karaliji – Worker of magic, sorcerer

Jug Verta – Southern wind, which may bring rain or sand storm. Not to be trusted.

JuthJuth – Scorpion

Tsidii – Mount

Ru-Lani-Lapu- The Red baboon

Covshek-pust – Men of the Wastes, desert dweller.

Posted: Mon Nov 1, 2004 4:01 pm


“…What will be your choice?”

Arunakhôr – from under his dark brows – watched Alandriel as her eyes shifted from one Corsair to the other. It was almost amusing to observe her now that she was given to choose between two evils. For that was what the both of them were. Undoubtedly in his own case, and he guessed the other corsair wasn’t of a whole different kind.

Choices, choices… Life was full of them.

The choice that at this point would surprise him the least was - if only just to spite him – if she would appoint the task to command the Agannâlô to the sea vagabond standing opposite him.

He saw Alandriel looking to the others who had gathered behind her, making sure they wouldn’t miss a word of what was going on. They were the sorriest crew he had seen in a long time. He didn’t envy them, any of them. Some of them would be hanging over the railing, puking their guts out before they would have left the mouth of Lhûn well behind them. He wondered how they’d cope once they’d be surrounded by nothing but the deep blue. He wondered how they’d cope once that first thrill of adventure had passed, and they were faced with endless seeming days in always the same company - with no way out.

His eyes caught the little fellow who all this time had followed them, who had caught his curiosity from the first moment he had laid eyes on him. He had the appearance of a child and at first Arunakhôr had thought he was a little peredhel, with his pointy ears peeking from underneath his curly hair. Maybe he was the child from one of the elves here… Maybe from the one he had stripped of her pansy jewel earlier that night? The curly hair could be an indication for that, yes… But then that elf must have messed around with someone who had unnaturally big feet, he concluded when he noted the large, furry extremities padding on the floorboards as he manoeuvred around to get a better outlook.
No, there was something in the way that little fellow looked, in the way he was dressed, that told Arunakhôr he was not a descendant of elvish bloodlines.

Indifferently he grabbed hold of the shoulder strap of Alandriel’s backpack, which he still carried. Its load was not that heavy yet the weight cut into his shoulder, causing a short distraction in his thinking. His eyes remained fixed on the little curly head, yet soon his thoughts were divirted. Almost immediately it became clear to him that the red head would not be the only one who would be making choices, in this hour where the early-morning mist silently started to circle between pier poles and ships.

He slightly narrowed his eyes while his gaze first shifted to Kalin, then to Alandriel. The latter still hadn’t spoken up. ‘Will I ever find out the truth about the many questions that are still unanswered at this point?’ he wondered while his grip on the backpack’s strap became firmer. ‘Will I ever find out if-?’ No, he could not allow his thoughts to steer into that direction. Otherwise he’d never… And he had to. There was no other way.

A mere squirm and slowly the strap slid down his shoulder. Without any further indication or hesitation he swung his arm back to deliver the blow, letting the backpack fly as soon as it was heading for the direction he was aiming for.

The first few seconds – to him those were the most vital – no one moved, frozen on the spot as if the cold of the north already was affecting them. Except for Kalin.

His ‘fellow-corsair’ saw the missile coming his way yet too late to dodge, and thus had a none too soft encounter with the ranger’s luggage. For no longer than a split second Arunakhôr wondered if there would be any teeth to collect from the floor. The pain emerging from his side however reminded him that time was ticking away. Then, everything happened fast, without giving him much of a chance to think over his next move.

The sound of blades being drawn rang coldly through the morning air. From the corner of his eyes Arunakhôr saw the figures move. Quickly, swiftly, he took a step back whilst he reached out towards the one who stood nearest: an elf. ‘Jaeniver’s her name, if I remember right. Pretty lass… for an elf that is’ He grabbed for her sleeve yet couldn’t get a direct hold on the smooth fabric. So instead his fingers snatched for her hair - grabbing it tightly while he pulled her closer – his other hand moving towards Alandriel’s hip. He only avoided the ranger’s swiping dagger by a nose and it took but a few seconds more before the elf maiden, still screaming and kicking, saw Alandriel’s Eket gleamering close to her face. The sight seemed to have quite a soothing effect.

“Now that I have y’r undivided attention…” He looked at the surprised and angry faces opposite him. “Me belongings for her life. All of me belongings…”

His eyes pierced into those of the elf who had dealt him a blow earlier, in Alandriel’s room. The Corsair had not forgotten the humiliation. ‘Come’n, do something rash… Give me a reason,’ was what their dark smouldering depths seemed to emanate, a wolfish grin uncovering his teeth concurrently. ‘It’ll be no more than a pin-prick to me.’

Yet out loud he continued: “I can wait all day,” urging them to start moving. “I wonder if ye have the same amount of time to spare… Weren’t ye in a hurry, lass?” he sneered at Alandriel.

The red head gritted her teeth. And oh, if looks could kill… “You… you bloody…!” she hissed.

A commotion on the quay indicated the gathered fishermen and buyers had noted something was not going right on the deck of the strange looking carrack. Word tends to spread fast, and soon the attention of the harbourmaster’s assistant, who was never far away when the harbour was buzzing with activity, was drawn. His voice drew out over the excited buzz as he made his way through the gathered traders.

His approach didn’t go unnoticed by the group on deck of the Agannâlô either. Here and there a half-glimpse was cast towards the quay, where the assistant approached the mooring place with great strides. A cautious half-glimpse, for to most the direct threat on deck was greater than the one approaching. Or so it seemed at first sight.

Arunakhôr recognised the man. He was the one who had addressed him shortly after his arrival yesterday. Only yesterday! It seemed as if a lifetime of events had taken place since.

The red head however understood that the approaching man was as much a threat as the Corsair who still held her Eket too close to Jaeniver’s delicate neck. He could be as much of a danger to their flight. Many of their blades still were marred with bloodstains. News concerning the debacle in the Seven Stars surely would have spread like wild fire. Maybe it already had caught his ears. He could make it happen they would have to remain on land, to be interrogated as witnesses of the events for one.

The Corsair however smelled a rat as well. He could easily say they had wanted to commandeer his ship against his will, that he only wanted to protect his possessions. But if the man would demand a closer examination of his ship, it’d soon become clear he was not just another innocent sailor, passing by the great city of Círdan.

Because of some mumbled words by Alandriel her group became aware of the approaching threat. They became nervous, and itchy, and rash. It was unclear who started the fray, but suddenly everyone seemed to be leaping towards the Corsair and his hostage. Arunakhôr pushed Jaeniver away in a last attempt to keep them at a distance long enough for him to do something - anything. In the chaos that followed a body suddenly hurled against him, making him lose his balance. Tumbling he disappeared over the railing into the ice cold water. A splash not far off told him he hadn’t been the only one who was welcomed to a bath.

Spluttering he broke through the water and turned to notice Alandriel not far from where he was treading water.

He gazed at her, his head inclined. The dive had thoroughly soaked them both, and the cold numbed him quickly. Choices…

Despite all the turmoil inside, despite the manner in which he had been forced into the situation he had been in until a few minutes ago… Despite it all, he could not bring himself to go after her life.

He would grant her his ship. At this point, there was nothing else he could do. His ship, his home… including his sail that would not survive another storm. He almost snorted.

He would grant her his maps. A necessity if they wanted to make it to their destination, safe and sound. And, if during her stay on board, she would ‘stumble’ over his sword, the one he hadn’t used for many a century, the one who’s surface was tainted with the blood of a many folk… He would even grant her that. Just as he would grant her his log.
Undoubtedly some of what she would find on board would shed a clearer light on who he was. He would allow her that chance to discover, at her own pace. For now.

“Nice try. But ye won't ever be able to predict my actions, or ever tell me what to do, nor tame me. It has been tried before, in vain.”

He puckered his lips, throwing her a hasty, mocking kiss. Then he grinned, allowing her a glimpse of his golden teeth one last time.

“Catch!”

The cry came unexpectedly as came the throw. Alandriel saw her Eket flying through the air. She had to stretch out as far as she could while making a half spin to keep her weapon from sinking to the bottom of the harbour.

Disappearing under water with a supple move Arunakhôr felt the rush connected to freedom coming over him, as great peace.

And the soft curls of the fog, they quickly covered up the ripples of the water, brushing away the last reminder of his presence…

For now.

Posted: Tue Nov 2, 2004 8:52 pm

“And another thing, Daraghir, - the mule you've just stabled....” “Yes, Are?””Could you do me a favour and take good care of it until I return?” The blonde man frowned while looking at her. “Sure I could, it's of no use for carrying messengers anyway. I thought of using it for light loads just around the havens. Why do you ask?” The woman shrugged. “I don't know. My heart just would be easier if I knew that beast will still be here, when the Perian wants to return to the Shire.” Her smile was returned and she knew he would do as she wished, if only for old time's sake. She wanted to turn and leave, but his gaze still held her. “I don't want to know, but... take care.” Areanor nodded. “I will.” And with a reassuring smile she left and walked out of the door of the messenger station.

He would get the parchment to Minas Tirith as soon as possible and her grandsire would know what to make out of the informations Alandriel had given her. On her way back to the ship she thought about her conversation with the resident King's Messenger again. She was pleased he had confirmed the feeling she had about “Mister” el Dineen, though it was only rumours he could provide, but rumours often had a seed of truth in them. She wondered if she should tell Alandriel about them, but decided against it. The Ranger had other things to worry, and the Gondorian was sure that the red-haired woman could see the rascal behind the façade. Areanor resolved on keeping an eye or maybe even both on that Corsair and his obviously manipulated dice.

For a short moment she stood there, breathing the salty air. A light breeze was coming down from the hills and a glance over to the Agannâlô showed her that all were aboard. The contures of the ship looked rather unreal in the dawning light. While the darkness was diminuishing, more and more details stood out. Areanor eyed the ship and its rigging and frowned. She had seen enough ships at the harbours of Lebennin and Belfâlâs to recognise the lean lines of a swift wolf hidden under the neglected-looking sheep-skin.

Daraghir watched her crossing the promenade of the harbour. She had nearly reached the ship, when she was approached by one of the harbour-masters assistants. He watched her pointing to the Agannâlô and him shaking his head and beckoning to her. She turned and accompanied the man to the bureau. A smile lit up Daraghir's face, for he could imagine her just too well, rolling her eyes impatiently at the bureaucracy of Mithlond. His gaze fell upon the coat rack next to the door. “It will be cold out there, Areanor.” He murmured and then came to a decision.

“And the destination?” The young man inquired. Now Areanor did indeed roll her eyes. “Do I really have to answer that? What if said that's none of your business?” The young clerk glanced up at her. “Then you won't get permission to sail.” She rubbed her forehead, as if the whole thing gave her a headache. “I don't need your permission to sail. I am a messenger of the king!” She sighed. “But to please your inquisitiveness and for your papers..... I confiscated the Agannâlô and will use it to get important messages to ...Ânfâlâs. And more I am not allowed to tell.” She was quite sure Alandriel would not like to reveal her destination to all in Middle Earth. And besides that the sign of the white tree gave her some power, so why not use it?

While the clerk was shuffling with the papers, he was adressed by a lean man, who just had entered the room. Areanor was surprised to hear him mention the Seven Stars Inn and the name Alandriel and stopped tapping her fingers impatiently on the counter. She looked the newly-arrived up and down. He was a bit taller than her and his appearance was like one of the Númenórean descendants. His clothes did look like he had been in town for some days and had time to freshen up after a long travel. She decided to talk to him.

Back out in the open she adressed him and he asked where he could find Alandriel. She was about to answer, when behind his back Daraghir showed up and waved at her. “Would you help me find her?” Her gaze turned back to the golden-brown eyes which held a plea in them. “Sure. Just come with me to the ship. I am Areanor from Minas Tirith, in service of the king. And you are?”

“....”. “ Maelgwn, nephew to the Harbour Master.” The tall man turned to face Daraghir. “Sorry, do we know each other?” Daraghir laughed warmly. “You might not know me, but I do know you. I've seen you visiting your uncle, and Mireädur has talked to me about you and boasted with his nephew. But don't let's waste time, for I can see this young lady here is eager to join her companions on board.” And together they traced their steps through the usual morning bustling activity which started as the dawn continued.

With Maelgwn following behind, the blonde man handed something heavy to Areanor. “You might need that. It's cold out on the sea when the icy winds are blowing, and I'm sure you don't have such gear with you.” She stared down at the fur coat in her arms and was rather amused to recognise the wolf pelt. “A sheep in a wolf's disguise.” she murmured. “Sorry?” She looked up at him. “Just something that crossed my mind. I can't accept that.” And she tried to give it to him, but he shoved it back in her arms. “I insist. I don't need it in this cosy town...” A smile flickered across his face. “and I do remember you were always quick to climb a tree without thinking that you'd need to come down again.” She laughed out loud at the memory. “But it wasn't me that was stuck in that tree back in Emyn Arnen. 'Twas you!” And teasing him in such words, they arrived at the berth of the Agannâlô with Maelgwn in their wake.

They were just in time to hear the splash. And another one. Running to the edge of the quay they saw Alandriel treading water and looking around. “Over there!” Daraghir pointed to their right, where a stair led down to the water surface. The Gondorian watched the two men descending and calling out for the swimmer. Finally Maelgwn and Daraghir helped the red-headed woman out of the water. Areanor waited at the top of the stairs, clutching the coat. “Now that comes handy, doesn't it?”

Posted: Sun Nov 7, 2004 9:12 am

Dindraug looked at his squabbling companions and shook his ancient head. Always with humans it was dissent and disagreement, misunderstanding and conflict. He watched the choppy waters of the harbour as the Corsair swam away from the ship, his sleek form cutting through the depths like a shark as it slid through the shadows of the ships. The dark head appeared above the waves, to take a gasp of air, before sinking back beneath the waves.

He glanced back at the others who stared out into the water, searching for the pirate, and not thinking to look by the ships in the harbour. There were more sharp words spoken, as Alandriel was pulled from the water, and Kalin laughed. Din wished for a moment that it had been that worthless human who had jumped from the ship, would be a lot less trouble all round he thought. Which brought him to the reality he was to bear, he was on a ship, due to sail from Mithlond for the west.

His mind slipped past, through long dark ages to the time when he had first beheld the sea, that dark grey seething mass that had hung beneath the stars. His eyes had beheld the tip of Balar, the island that the Calaquendi has sailed to Valinor upon. That rock had been battered by storms, as Ossë sought vengeance for the loss of the Teleri songs. Then years later when the light of the sun and the moon had first risen out of the Gates of Morning, he had travelled again to that place, and along the coast to Brithombar and the fires of Morgoth that had shriven that ancient haven. The seas had brought the Noldor, tall and fell to save the Falathrim, and there Dindraug had first beheld Celegorm of the fierce temper, and had followed his army with many of the Teleri to the very walls of Angband to save their Lord. He had never met Fëanor, but he saw his death and the hate that had driven back the Captain of Angband. He and his companions had waited in a quiet camp whilst the Noldor sang as the greatest of the Noldor faded into ash. He remembered Meadhros, and the emissary of Morgoth; the vampire Thuringwethil who had seduced the King of the Noldor with honeyed words and soft lies. Dindraug, and Cirdan who had stood with him that day had argued into the night with the Sons of Fëanor, but they shared no common language, and Meadhros had been taken. The story was an old one, but the dark sea always brought it back. He remembered the last time he had seen Meadhros, as he clutched a Silmaril to his broken chest and wept for the world. He had fled to the North, to the battered hell pit that remained of Angband and cast himself into the flames, by all accounts. And Dindraug, who had remained his friend throughout, despite the butchery at the mouths of Siron, had turned his back and stared at the sea. The Valar would have forgiven him then, they would have let him sail to Valinor, to meet his sisters and father who would by then have emerged from Mandos’ care. But he knew he could not, that the grip of the doom that he had sworn to uphold in the camp in Hithlum was still upon him, and it would hold him until he could pursue it no longer.

The salt spray from the sea caressed him, and he looked up at the sky for a moment. Then he drew out the map he had taken from the fallen Haradrim in the Inn. It was torn and bloody, the edges burnt and the skin it was drawn on was stained; from what beast or being he did not want to know. But it was obvious to any who knew the geography of the North of the World in those days. The high peaks of Erid Luin falling onto the open plain of Lindon and the sea beyond. And in the midst of that sea, with lines of red stretching towards them like bloody veins, sat the Island that was all that remained of Himring; fortress of Meadhros. And besides was sketched a figure, a deamon from the past. Dindraug had spent time in Harad, he had seen the great temples that the fathers of men had built in the jungles of the south as they worshipped the spawn of Morgoth in the dark night of the world. He recognised the icon, the one they called Lamaštu or Seccubus. He had seen her, long ago, in the camp in Hithlum and she had dragged his friend Meadhros off to captivity.

Dindraug looked up at the moon who sailed overhead and the thin wisp of cloud that strangled the light for a moment, like the wings of a great bat as it searched the night for prey. It was a story that was as old as the world; or so it felt.

He looked back at the soaking Alandriel, who shivered on the deck wrapped up in dry cloak. She looked worn, sad and angry. And behind her, the pirate Kalin el Dineen watched her through narrowed eyes.

“So Mistress, when you are dry, do you have a place for us to sail to or should I just head for the open sea?” he was saying in the raspy accent of the Umbarian docks. But she had caught Dindraug’s eyes, and the intensity with which he looked at her.

Dindraug rolled the map and slid it into his pouch. The last person who should read that map was Kalin el Dineen.

Posted: Wed Nov 10, 2004 4:37 am

“Now that comes handy, doesn't it?”

Soaked to her bones, unable to speak through violently chattering teeth, all energy bent on keeping her feet, Alandriel's head turned as if in slow motion taking in Areanor's countenance. Whether or not the Ranger's attempt at a grateful nod was noted by the Gondorian wrapping a heavy pelt around her trembling shoulders she could not determine through her light headedness and her efforts at gaining control over the shivering.

The face of a young, blonde man came into focus.

"We take you to the harbour master's office… or the messenger station. There is a fire there and spiced wine. You can…."

Daraghir did not finish his sentence as he saw the look in Alandriel's eyes. "But… you're out of your mind…." he started again when another voice cut in.

"Not out of her mind – just very ….." momentarily the speaker paused for the right word, "…. determined."

The soft tone, the way the vowels inflected with the distinctive tones of the Greenwood realm…Alandriel knew that voice. Her head swung slowly the other way and for the first time truly beheld who stood there. By the Valar! Maelgwn!

"You look like a half-drowned cat." Readjusting the coat and tugging it closer around her shoulders his voice then lost all mirth, mirroring the look in his eyes as he said: "Daraghir is right though. We must get you warm."

Noting the almost desperate look she cast at the ship he nodded and, wrapping his arm around her shoulder supportingly, made to go.

"But….." Daraghir attempted one last protest.

"We truly are in a hurry to leave. You have my message to Gondor. The mule is in the best of hands. The papers are all in order. Is there anything apart from your concerns that stops us from departing?" Areanor had sidestepped and now faced Darahir.

He shook his head in resignation but then his eyes lit up once more: "Be careful. I told you. Kalin – he's not to be trusted."

They made their farewells and Areanor soon caught up with Maelgwn who all but half carried Alandriel onto the deck. There he settled her against a pile of ropes, took off his own cloak and wrapped it around the half frozen women before starting to ease off her boots.

“So Mistress, when you are dry, do you have a place for us to sail to or should I just head for the open sea?” Kalin's raspy voice suddenly broke through the quiet that seemed to have settled onto the deck.

Maelgwn, holding Alandriel's boot in his hand, straightened. "It's ok," Alandriel managed to whisper sensing that her friend of old might, given the circumstances, overcome his usual reservedness. Clenching and unclenching her numb fingers beneath the cloak she looked around and saw that all had gathered closer. Tibodom, eyes big as saucers stood by Legyviel who seemed to have taken on a protective stance. Areanor at their side held the Ranger's travel pack she had retrieved on the deck. Dindraug, intent eyes trying to conceal the fact that he slipped a parchment into his pouch was flanked by Aglanor and Janiver who whispered: "She needs blankets, lots of them…. hot water and brandy or something stronger." "There is a brazier just outside the forecastle…." Nothing had escaped Aglanor's keen elven eyes. And there was Kalin, fixing her like a bird-of-prey with a narrow stare from under his buzzard-like eyebrows.

Eight people, looking to her for answers, to hear where she would doom them to go…. on a vessel abandoned by the only one that truly knew how to handle her. Forcing herself upright and squaring her shoulders as best as she could, she appraised Kalin one more time.

'Noro geleg na forod gerich lû farn!' *) The words spoken by the one who had been a driving force behind her endeavours, a counsellor as well as a guide drummed to a crescendo in her mind – and then receded. With the last shred of energy she steeled herself.

"Take us out of the Gulf of Lhûn, captain and then to the North."

Was the Corsair's snarl turning into a smirk?

A wave of exhaustion washed over the Ranger. Before her shoulders slumped and her head sank Maelgwn, yet crouching next to the Ranger, caught her eyes. He understood.

~~~

*) Hasten north while there is time (from the exchange of posts between SJ and Alandriel)

Maelgwn Posted: Fri Nov 12, 2004 8:30 am


He understood: that stubborn streak which ran deep in her as the grain in wood; the frustrations that boiled with a fire to rival her hair; the passion that fuelled her indomitable spirit. What he didn’t understand was how she'd succeeded in wooing this disparate bunch of characters - for what else could you call some of them - from across the known world to do, what he presumed to be, her bidding.

There was little time for him to decide. The orders had been given and they would sail swiftly on this morning tide. Besides which, she had asked for him and he had answered. Opening that letter was as drawing a bee to honey, or a moneylender to a pauper; what choice had he but to heed her call?

Looking down at the woman crumpled by his feet, he saw the pained exhaustion across her features; how pallid they seemed in this stark moonlight. Her jaw was clenched and he saw as he watched that she was fighting and failing to master the shivers.

"You should change out of these damp clothes quickly" he told her, "and move out of the elements, the wind can only do you ill. Come, let me support you". He offered her his spare arm, the one that didn’t have two sodden salt encrusted boots dangling from it, and helped her to her feet.

As he helped her towards the captain's cabin, he felt a pair of coal black eyes bore deep into the back of his head, bearing nothing short of animosity.


From behind a make-shift screen of a cloak, Alandriel's voice floated back, as she struggled out of her impromptu bathing suit. "I didn't think you were going to come".

"Have I ever let you down yet?" Maelgwn's eyes were hovering on the heap of boots at the door.

"No. But then I never asked anything of you before".

"Well now you know".

The now-sodden cloak fell to the floor and Maelgwn's chair squeaked as he rose from it. Looking warmer now, dressed in a woollen tunic, though with hair curling damply into the shoulders, she bade him sit at his ease.

"Can I offer you a drink?" she asked, "it's surely the least I can do for your trouble and I confess, it wouldn't sit badly with me either after the happenings of tonight".

"Given we have much to talk of, I should say that's a wise plan. Besides which, I think you could use the revitalising properties. I'd hate to lose you. After all, I'm not planning on volunteering for leadership duty." His soft brown eyes lost the careworn look they'd assumed, as they watched her pour aqua vitae into two neat measures.

She took a sip, gritting her teeth as the drink burned her parched throat. "But you are planning on volunteering to join me?" her voice lost its sometime stridency and sounded softer with a hint of pleading.

"That I will. Though it would seem it's to be to the ends of the earth. Is the back again optional?" the words were rolled drowsily around his mouth like a vintage wine.

"I will tell you, that I don't know. Though I've not yet voiced it as such to the others. The first they knew of the bearing we were to take was just now, outside."

He took another swill, swallowing thoughtfully.

"Are you prepared?"

"Are you?" he replied in kind. "I've never known you to fraternise with Halflings before? How well do you know all your companions? How well do they anticipate what they might discover?"

Posted: Sun Nov 14, 2004 5:21 am

Kalin glared at the cabin door as it shut. He swirled the foul taste around in his mouth, rubbing it across his broken teeth and collecting it in a glob of spit which he sent over the side of the ship in a volley, causing a disgruntled shout from the dock.

“Bah, I don’t know what she is doing in my cabin with her brother” he snarled at Jaeniver, who stood close enough to him to smell the pirate.

“What, that was her brother?” she looked at Kalin in dismay.

“You couldn’t tell the family resemblance then? Ahh, well spend as long at sea as I and you can soon tell kin from kith at the moment they step aboard. I just hope this one knows something about shipboard life.” He nodded at the stunned looking Silvan face, and turned to stomp off across the deck.

“Did Kalin say that was her brother?” whispered Legyviel crossing to Jae, her eyes following the Corsair’s departure with a mix of emotions.

“That’s what he said,” puzzled Jae. She had taken a good look at the peredhel and the way they walked off was not like any brother and sister she had ever known.

But the Pirate was shouting at them all now. Calling at them to stow their gear below decks, then get back up ‘sharpish’. Poor Tibo looked a bit put out by the Pirate’s tone, which was harsh and business like. But Kalin had the look of a man with a mission. He was talking over the side of the ship to someone on the dock when Jae took her bundle to the cabins in the forecastle, following the Avari.

“Do not take him seriously Jaeniver,” said Dindraug in muted tones as she stood in the passageway. “Put your things in with Legyviel. The cabins are tight on space, but you will cope. May I suggest you take the top bunk.”

“No you may not tell me where I can sleep Dindraug!” She snapped.

Dindraug looked at her, and for a moment a smile crossed his face. “I am sorry Jaeniver. I assumed you would not mind sharing a cabin with Legyviel, nor that you would mind her taking the low bunk as she is hurt. As an option I will swap with you, and you may share with General Aglanor if that is more to your choosing?” Din smiled as Jae blushed, before she turned and pushed the cloth hanging aside, tossed her pack onto the top bunk.

“I will be fine here Dindraug, and I must thank you again for the loan of your knife which I will keep under my pillow.” She looked at him again, hoping the pointed remark had sunk in. He had turned away and moved through the curtain opposite to place his pack on the top bunk of the room he would share with Aglanor. He slid the spear he had brought from the Inn of the Seven Stars beneath the bunks, and turned back to Jae.

“I think our Captain would like us on deck. It would be in our interest to join him.” He said this loudly so that Tibo and Areanor who had been stowing their gear could hear. Aglanor, who had just walked 'below decks' caught Din’s eye and smiled.

“So I will be on the low bunk then?” he smiled.

“I did offer to swap with Jaeniver here, but she declined the offer” Din said. Jae just looked at them both and stomped off to the deck muttering beneath her breath. Din barked a small laugh and followed, as the ship lurched softly.


By the time he emerged, the ship was loose from the shore and being pulled out of the harbour by a longboat crewed by a dozen rowers, and Kalin was busy directing underlings in the ratlines. Din looked up at the six sailors Kalin was directing like Barbary apes that swung hither and thither through the maze of ropes and stays, each man looked professional enough to the elf, but what did he know of the sea?

“Dindraug. I know you have some experience of knots. I need you to run up the mizzen mast and help Punka there to lower the sail on my say. Master elf, Aglanor, I need you to hold the wheel steady and turn it on my say when we get to the deep channel. And Mr Tibo, I want you to stay with the pilot and when we get to the channel, let him down to his boat and cast him off,” Kalin loosed a couple of lines letting the rippling canvas of the main sail loose to catch the wind “and give him this”. A small bag of coin flew from Kalin’s hand and he watched as the Halfling deftly caught it.

Across the ship, people were running to do what he ordered, which made Kalin feel happier than he had since he arrived in this forsaken harbour the day before. In a day he had a ship and a crew, a good omen. He could small the sea air on his cheek, and the swell hitting the side of the ship causing it to pitch almost dropping Dindraug into the cold waters of the Gulf of Luin. Not that that would be such a bad thing, the pirate mused. He watched as the Halfling cast off the pilot’s pinnace, and tossed the man his coin. Kalin was glad they would not be back soon as the bag had contained little more than a few shire farthings, not the gold promised. But the wind had the sail now, and as he lowered himself to the deck to take the wheel from Aglanor, Kalin mused that he would not be back soon and the reach of the longshoremen of Mithlond was not long.

Settling back, he watched with amusement as Din staggered across the deck and disappeared down towards his cabin. And at the prow he could see the other elves gathering to look out towards the west. Pah, like there was land that way.

Kalin looked at Tibo who stood with Areanor staring back and waving at the pilot. The man in the boat appeared to be waving back, but Kalin was sure he was only waving his fist. Laughing, he looked at his new ship. The only doubt in his mind now was in the cabin, where Alandriel was still secluded with that stranger she had not introduced.

Posted: Tue Nov 16, 2004 12:48 pm

Her hand rubbed the red weal in her neck absentmindedly that the tight grip of the corsair had left on her fair skin. Prodding the glowing coals underneath the brazier a bit Jae grabbed the pitcher standing next to her and poured the water into the tin bowl that was placed in one of the holes above the coal department. The faint feeling of fear she had felt eyeing the sword now turned into rage. Silently she wished the man a painful death that would send him to the bottom of the sea.

“May his bones turn into dust and his name forgotten in the sands of time.” She mumbled grudgingly as she got up to grab two more coals to add to the red glowing mass. The wait for the water to boil gave Jae some time to give her eyes the leisure of regarding the crew that was running up and down the main deck to furfil commands given by Kalin who was rather enjoying his newly given authority over the rest of the company. Apart from the faces she knew she saw only rough sailors. One of them, greasy strings of hair covering his eyes, hurled and send whatever was stuck between his teeth, flying to land almost right in front of the standing elf. With a look of disgust she looked at the man who just eyed her back daringly. “I think I’m going to be sick” she mumbled appalled as she turned away to face the sea. The dark, white foamed waves were cut in half by the ship’s hull. Slowly she sank into a peaceful daydream as she stared at the glinstering sea.

A heavy drop of the ship made Jae awake from her revery and a sizzeling sound that came from the brazier made alarm bells ring in her mind. Moaning, she sank onto her knees and quickly removed the bowl with a sheet that had started to spill boiling water onto the coals. She wrapped a few sheets around the bowl to keep it from burning her hands and took another bundle under her arm. With her precious yet hot cargo she made for the captain cabin.‘Is he really her brother?’ Was the last thing she thought as she knocked to announce her coming before Jae twisted the doorknob.

It might had been the sound of the turning of the doorknob or the sudden sound of unfamiliar voices but it had awoken the parrot that belonged to the former owner of the ship. With a loud screetch he flew from his dark corner of the cabin and dissapeared out of sight. To look for his master perhaps or find a place that hadn’t been ‘infested’ with stranger. Jae nearly dropped the entire bowl but managed to keep the spilling to a limit. Hot drops sizzled down her arm. She gritted her teeth. It was not worth a scream. If the other two had been at all surprised with the sudden awakeness of the parrot they did not show it. As she entered a silence hang in the air with the two pair of eyes that were fixed on her.The ranger sank back in her chair as if she had been on the point of replying to the man opposite of her but with Jaeniver’s appearance decided not to.

“I’m sorry if I intruded on important business.” She had wanted to say family issues but she thought it would be wise to refrain from that. “Seeing you just came from a rather cold sea you could use something to warm you back up.” And Jae placed the steaming bowl down on a table. Alandriel just gave her nod of thanks as she ran a hand through the damp strands of red hair. Jae had only just sat the pile of sheets down along with the bowl when the door swung open and Dindraug entered, a serious expression on his face as he did so. His hand that was already halfway into his pocket retreated and fell to his side. His smile was almost apollogetic. Something strange was going on here but as neither of the three wished to tell her anything Jae quickly turned back to Alandriel. Such secrecy always made her feel uncomfortable but she was unsure whether she even wanted to know what was going on. There was something about their sudden haste of departure that didn’t feel right. About this whole mysterious quest, in fact, no one had explained just where they were going and why. Again the frequent asked question rose in her mind. Why? What am I doing here? No, she did not like this one bit the secrets in this room and the pirate shouting commands outside. Not one bit at all.

“I’ll take my leave. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.” And with a final smile she left the cabin,closing the door behind her.

Posted: Thu Nov 18, 2004 6:05 am

How well did they anticipate what they might discover? How well prepared was she?

Alandriel's eyes met the peredhel's over the rim of her glass as she took a final swallow. The clear liquid burnt its way into her insides just as Maelgwn's questions bore deep into her core.

"I fear the worst…something…. someone is loose." she all but whispered just as there came a knock on the door. Jaeniver entered and there was a temporary commotion as a hitherto unnoticed feathered creature gave a shrill cry and fled through the open door. Involuntarily Alandriel flinched yet Maelgwn's soft touch steadied her quickly and the moment passed.

'Who else would flee?' Alandriel's gaze followed the somewhat flustered elf maiden as she put down a bowl of steaming water and some coverings. 'Is she prepared? What right do I have involving her… involving all of them?' Her eyes, shrouded with more than just weariness once again met those of Maelgwn and she gave a soft cough, nodding her thanks to Jaeniver who had regained her composure apart from a weary look in her countenance. 'Difficult times call for difficult decisions and above all fate deals the cards…. and we play as best as we can.' The thought brought no comfort for that she had begun to meddle and worse, involving innocent bystanders, she was all too aware of.

A noise from the door brought her unseeing gaze back to focus and it settled on the figure of the old elf, Dindraug. His stern countenance turned into a rueful smile as he entered the cabin, his gaze settling on Jaeniver who understood all too quickly and made to leave hastily, a most disconcerted, uncomfortable look marring her pretty face.

'I am sorry too. Deeply sorry. You cannot begin to know how much,' Alandriel thought remembering her ever darkening dreams, ' …. especially should but some of the forebodings turn out to be true.' Ruefully she watched the young elf walk out. 'That is the price I have to pay.' The thought sent a stab through her heart for she also knew that being thought manipulative, secretive and to be distrusted for what she would have to do were the least that would be extracted from her….. from them all.

Alandriel got up. "Have a seat Dindraug," she offered, closing the cabin door firmly. For a long moment she stood facing the scarred, rough wooden surface.

What she had to say, what she had to find out could not be shared with the others. Not yet…. maybe not ever; not the whole brunt of the truth as she had come to suspect it. Suspect! That precisely was the problem. Proof was needed, and sorely. More puzzle pieces to fill the many gaping holes in the picture that had begun to emerge in her mind and that set naked fear coursing through her veins. A picture that, should she share it now with all might set some to opt for the freezing waters of the Gulf rather than face …. No! She simply could not afford to loose a single member of her motley party. Too much was at stake.
Each and every one, even the ones she barely knew and hardly trusted, brought a talent, a particular skill or inherent ability she knew would prove invaluable… she knew she had to exploit. Too much knowledge too soon in the wrong hands and all could go awry. Yet she had to find a means to earn their trust, to bring them together. … it was a tight rope walk ….

Taking a deep breath and forcing her shoulders to relax she slowly turned. The chair was empty. Leaning against the built in cot stood Dindraug and Maelgwn.

Forcing a smile she padded back to the chair and sat down heavily. It was time to open some doors ….

Looking at the old elf she began:

"Dindraug, this is Maelgwn, a ranger from the woodland realm. He's more than a brother to me and I trust him as I trust in Irmo who guides my steps. Maelgwn, this is Dindraug whom I'm acquainted with through a mutual friend, Lord Elbren, Guild Master of the Mithril Knights. I don't know him well personally and just how far I trust him I'm not entirely sure yet I have no choice in the matter for he has wandered these lands longer than any of us now aboard and we, " she quickly corrected herself upon noting the look in his eyes, "I have need of his expertise."

Two pairs of eyes remained fixed on the Ranger as she continued: "A shadow of malice has arisen from an island in the North and sown its seeds. Those spores of dread and darkness are spreading far and wide through Middle Earth. Haunted by dreams and dark premonitions I came to Mithlond looking for answers. While investigating I am suddenly beseeched by assassins that call themselves Baudarain. "

She picked up her wet, discarded tunic and pulled out an amulet.

"This is called the 'Serpent Star' – though just how you, Dindraug come to know its name I dearly would like to know." She tossed the trinket to the elf who deftly caught it. "Those Baudarain called me 'usurper of the essence. That is entirely plausible for as you know, Maelgwn, I do walk the spirit ways which some call the essence yet how those Southerners could possibly know……?"

The question hung unanswered in the small room.

"Then I am rescued by a being whose power I can but begin to fathom and whose aid and goodwill have watched over my steps ever since I came to the Haven. I am urged on my way in no uncertain terms and told to hunt the hunter…. shadow hunter….; to go North. At the same time there is an exodus of elves, an entire race of Eldar it seems called Cuiviémar from lands also in the North that no one seems to know….." Her voice trailed off as she saw Dindraug's countenance blanched – or was it a trick of the early morning light?

"What do you know of these matters?" Her eyes now fixed the old elf. "And just what is it you're hiding in your pocket Dindraug?"

Posted: Sat Nov 27, 2004 11:31 pm

With Tibo at her side, Areanor watched the pilote going back to the harbour. He had accepted rather gracefully the small purse the halfling had given to him. As the Agannâlô was officially a king's ship now, he had expected to get nothing at all for his efforts.

The sun was rising steadily and slowly began to dissolve the mist behind which the shores of Forlindon and Harlindon were hidden. Before long they would pass the gap and get into the rougher waters of the Belegaer. And then to the north. The North.

In a low voice, Areanor started to hum a melody, then the words came back to her mind and then right over her lips.

Seagull, do you wail for me?
I see the darkness grow
My one true love has sailed to sea
To find Feanor's glow.

Black swan, did you spot his sail
In southern winds unfold?
my one true love has told the tale
of treasures, pearls and gold.

Dolphin, will you show the way?
To find the northbound waves
My one true love's been led astray
In long forgotten caves.

Selkie, will you wait for me?
Your wailing hurts my heart.
My one true love has set you free
then tore your soul apart.

Mighty squib, for me dive deep
To search the ocean's ground.
My one true love for sure must weep
when to a wreck he's bound.

Eagle, have you seen him there
on long forsaken shores?
My one true love, how will he fare
where foam forever roars?

Albatross, your sight is keen.
I'll follow in your wake
To where my true love might have been
I'll hurry for his sake.

Areanor's voice faded away with the last tone of the song. The Perian looked up at her with a question written in his face. She smiled at him, but he could see tears glittering in her sea-green eyes. Then she told him:

“In an age, a long time ago, a blue glow filled the northern sky. It was said Feanor himself had hidden an aquamarine on an island there. The tale went that this stone was more beautiful than one of the silmarils and had secret powers. Though what his power was is not handed down through the years. Few dared to take the challenge and sailed north. None ever came back to tell if the tale was true. This is a song about Ithildris who manned a ship to search for her lover. She never returned either and nothing was heard of her fate. She was the sister of an ancestor of mine, ages ago.”

Areanor fell silent and watched the morning mist rolling back around the ship. In the distance the shore could be seen in faint lines. “The song is far longer, but not all of it was translated into Westron. And the old language of Lebennin is seldom heard anymore.”

Then she turned and eyed the newly appointed captain distrustfully. “Master Tibo, I think we should find ourselves a task to do, before some mean work is appointed to us. How good of a cook are you?” The Hobbit nearly looked insulted, when he answered. “All Hobbits make good meals, I can assure you, Areanor. It all depends on the quality of the ingredients.” And he looked even an inch taller, supported by his pride. The Gondorian laughed out loud. “Then let's go and have a look at the ingredients this ship may hold to get a decent meal for all of us. This ship rats Kalin has hired may eat a lot. Hard work makes all men hungry. I can peel potatoes for you, if there are any aboard.” And together they went to the stairs that led down into the ship's belly.

Tibo’s bare feet followed the Gondorian through the aisles and cabins of the ship. He had never seen anything alike – a ship in the Shire usually meant a little barge, barely big enough to hold two hobbits who had the courage to go fishing. Never had he even thought, that several persons could sleep and live on a ship, even less that it would take some to move it, and how they managed to raise those sails, it was a riddle for him.

Bravely, he tried to follow Areanor, whose tall legs were walking quickly deeper into the labyrinth that the Agannâlô was for him. It seemed to him, that from every inch in this wooden monster, new doors popped up, as if by magic and while he desperately tempted to follow his way, his eyes fixed on his feet, he remarked all of a sudden, that they had become blur. And at this moment, he stopped suddenly, moaning. Areanor turned around, in surprise.

Have you even been to the sea, dear reader? Have you stayed on board, where you breathe the salt of the sea, where you feel the wind which will move the ship to its will, where you see the waves exploding against the rail, and the salty drops of water landing on your skin proof that you’re alive and a part of the elements? Had Tibo done so, probably he would have been able to follow Areanor, even on the entire length of the ship, which seemed so enormous for him. But he had not done so. He had gone into that part where you don’t see the sea any more, and where the movement of the ship becomes only something distant, controlled by forces you do not see, nor feel, nor understand. And it happened what must: Tibo felt seasick. Only he did not even know what was happening to him.

Areanor turned around, in surprise. The hobbit stared at her, pale as a sheet, his eyes wide open and looking slightly misty. He did not manage to look at her clearly, and as he tried to walk one step forward, his feet did not seem to obey him.

If Tibo did not understand what was happening to him, Areanor, she, analysed the situation quite accurately.

“Have you ever been to the sea, master Hobbit?” she asked kindly.

Tibodom wanted to answer, but as he opened his lips, he felt that if a sound would come out of those, the entire dinner of this night would follow and even if he had felt hungry as he had spent a day without eating only minutes before, he was not sure, he wanted that to happen, especially in front of a lady. So while he felt that drops of sweat began to form on his rosy little forehead, he nodded with effort.

“Maybe you should get some rest in your cabin.” Suggested the King’s messenger kindly, and once more, in a huge effort, Tibo tried to nod. At this moment, he felt like his head had been turned upside-down and the earth was slipping away under his feet. In fact, the ship left the harbour, and the waves were starting to rock it more or less gently.

Only very little time later, Tibodom almost cursed himself that he had not watched more carefully, how Areanor, had reached the place, that she defined as his cabin, but for the moment, he was unable to tell which tortured way they had followed. He saw other doors, and somehow, behind those, he was sure, must be the rest of their party, the elves, the men, all those steady persons, prepared for a trip on the sea, where he was utterly doomed to failure.

His cabin was for him only (Do you remember the inn? Do you really think someone would want to share his room with Tibodom?), and once Areanor had closed the door, he looked around – there was a round window, a bed, small for grown-up person, huge for a hobbit, a desk, with the four feet nailed to the ground, and a kind of cupboard in the corner, from which he had heard a strange noise, like something grinding, but it could have been just the sound of the waves, which he still heard.

He put his pack on the desk and opened it, avidly looking for some food in there. His mother had taught him to eat something when he was sick. Only when he had found a huge piece of bread and some cheese, he could do nothing but stare at them. His stomach, his entire being seemed to be in a state of weightlessness…

Tibo did not understand what was happening to him – only a few days later, when he had gotten used to the constant movement of the ship, he would be able to walk around on secure feet and to be of any use for the crew (and then indeed, Areanor’s idea of cooking would proof its value). But it was not only the ship – Tibo had not understood either, who was the strange fellow, who had jumped into the water, why he had done so, who was the other elf who had arrived and whom Jaeniver had known, and why the Lady Legyviel had been so weakened in the attack that she had needed the help of Lutz. Lutz…. His dear Lutz…

The mess in his thought and the movement of the ship now altogether mingled in his mind to a vision of complete blurriness and he felt stronger that before, that he might not be able to keep the rests of his meals in his stomach. At a particular strong wave (at least in his opinion), Tibodom felt, he could not remain inside any more. In a desperate effort, he rose, opened the door and ran the way he thought would lead him up to the deck again, his hand pressed in front of his mouth, hoping not see anybody witness his distress.

His pack still lay open in the cabin, as the door swung shut again, and the bread and the cheese on the table.

“So what is it you have to tell us Dindraug? What is your secret?”

The Avari looked at Alandriel, and the pendant that she held. The truth was in there; the long dark journey that was to be their reward. He could se the light depicted, feel the flash of emotion it always provoked.

“Before I tell you, Ranger, I think I had better close the window. There are people who could hear who I would not trust. Not everybody is your friend”

He leaned over to the ornate framed glass, the scrolling worked in intricate gold which was chipped and faded beneath his fingertips. He marvelled for a second, that something so new and young should tarnish in this way, lashed by unkind and unthinking elements. Like all works of the hand it was mortal, and would fade, and be forgotten in time. But under the gilt, the wood was rotten and would not sustain them.

Smiling, he closed the window. ‘It need not sustain them for long’ he thought.

The Ship sailed out into the Gulf of Lune, the storm of last night had left the sea choppy but she swept out towards the ocean. At her stern, the proud Corsair laughed at the threat of the weather, as crewmen and hobbits leapt to tasks and schools of dolphins passed round and under her hull.

And she passed into memory, amidst a skein of geese that flew out to the far northern isles until those who stood on the shore could see them no more.


On the shore of the Lune, Círdan watched as the ship sailed into the misty dawn. He did not look away; it was the end of a great story of Middle Earth. At his side Egladil sighed deeply, and made furtive noises to attract his attention. Círdan did not look up; instead he watched the ship until it passed beyond the horizon and was lost.

He felt his age today, he was now truly alone. The eldest of his people in Arda and now the last to sail to the west, or to find Mandos in his great halls. He sighed deeply and smelt the air. The city was changing now. The Inn that had been the home of Dindraug had passed on to human hands, the old beams that had held it together for long eons would serve a fleeter race now. The mysteries left behind in the Elf city, they were to be forgotten.

“My lord, we should go now” said Egladil, his aide for many ages of men. “The Avari is gone; he will not be back, nor his companions. It is time we left too.”

Círdan nodded, and turned to head down to the Swan ship in the harbour, leaving the crumbling ruins behind.


Dindraug looked at Alandriel and Maelgwn and a ghost of a smile crossed his face. The creak of wood filled the cabin for a time, that with the slap of water on the hull and the distant cries of sailors on the deck were all that could be heard. The moment dragged on, uncomfortably long with Alandriel staring at the Avari and wondering what was going through his mind. Maelgwn coughed gently, to breach the silence, causing Dindraug’s ancient eyes to fall on him, before flitting back to the pendant on the table.

“My pouch holds confirmation, Alandriel, nothing more”. He reached into the leather bag and pulled out the map case he had taken form a Haradrim earlier. “It is a map to an island in the Northern seas, a long lost fortress of the Noldor in fact. I think we can assume Lady Alandriel, that this shadow of malice that has been haunting your sleep is part of it. What I need to know, is what you understand and what you are prepared for.”

“So it is Himling. May I see the Map Dindraug?” she asked.

“You may, but you did not answer my question.” He walked towards the table and laid the damaged map on the table. Alandriel and Maelgwn huddled round it to look at the rough travel stained document, the collection of glyphs and runes bringing puzzled looks to all three faces.

“I do not understand, what is this?” Maelgwn pointed to the writing that dotted the surface, “They are no letters I know. And these marks are they letters or symbols?”

“The writing is in the language of the desert men of Harad. I know some of it, enough to know that it is not pleasant.” Dindraug said, as he looked over the map. “They appear to be using the dark speech of Morgoth, but the dialect defeats me. I do know that this symbol here-“he indicated the top of the map “reads as Woman or Queen of Secret Darkness.” He looked at the other two as if they should know that name, but they looked blankly.

“Look at the symbol in her hand Alandriel, does that look familiar at all?” She looked at the tattered map, and the white cross on the black background, the same as the pendant Dindraug held in his hand. He laid it on the table, and looked at the two of them.

“You still have not said what you know of the Serpent Star, Dindraug. I have learned much of you; you are one of the eldest of the Eldar, and you have travelled further than anyone in this world. Have you met these people before?”

“Met them? Lady Alandriel, I founded them.” He smiled a predator’s smile.


Alandriel stepped back, her hand falling to her knife but Maelgwn stayed her hand. “If that is a joke Master Dindraug, it is in poor taste indeed.”

“It is no joke Maelgwn, but it is an old story about a misunderstood phrase. The original name was Sapient Star, Idrinél in the tongue of Beleriand. It was translated into the common tongue of men, but in Numenorë somehow it was corrupted. They did not know the word, or they confused it over time, and so it became the Serpent Star and it was this they took with them when they explored the jungles of Harad. The snake, they know too well in the fastness of Ny Chennacatt. In that dark pit, they changed what we had made in the Fens of Serech, into something dark and something cold.”

“Strong words Dindraug, and just enough mystery but you explain nothing. What is this Sapient Star or Serpent Star that you follow?” said Alandriel, the pain in her shoulder tempering her need to be polite.

“That will remain a mystery for now. You are not ready for this yet”

“Not ready, I have been tracking this for longer than you think-“

“That which you track has been hunting me for the history of this world!” roared Dindraug, “She waited in the darkness when my mother first woke, she watched me born, she took my family one by one, my friends and my enemies and she waits in the dark even now, calling like a lover in the night to seduce me finally.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “And I will come to her, in the night, and finally we shall see what the darkness truly is, and what the light in the darkness truly means.”

The ancient elf stepped away from the table and looked out of the window as the lights of Mithlond faded in the early morning light. “I do not expect to step foot in Endor again Alandriel, and I do not expect any on this ship to return save as thralls to the darkness.”

“Then why go?” said Maelgwn simply.

“Because I have been wrong before,” he looked into the eyes of the half elf and smiled “And because I have no choice in the matter.” He looked down at the table and picked up the pendant and spun it round in his hand.


Alandriel sighed and grimaced, moving her shoulder gently. “Dindraug, I am hurting and I am tired, and now I feel I have fallen between the gaps of a story and I am in the elder days. Be patient with me, but be honest. What is going on? Put it simply so I can understand.”

Dindraug’s eyebrow arched, and he glanced at Maelgwn and smiled. “I thought you understood, Ranger.” He said to her “I am sure this young warrior knows of the battles during the rising of the moon?” The old elf sat on the edge of the bed and for a moment looked away from the two and out over the gulf.

“I know the stories; the moon rose before the sun and heralded the awakening of man. It contains a nut from one of the two trees and it marked the return of the Noldor to Middle Earth from Valinor. There was a great battle as well in Beleriand that is lost. Is this linked?” Maelgwn said, he was remembering old tales and songs from the Hall of Fire. Alandriel remained silent. It was a time before the birth of any of her kind, which she knew well.

“Yes, you were taught so in Rivendell Maelgwn. I should know Master Elrond would not let you out without a rudiment of knowledge. But not all, he was not there afterall. When the hordes of Morgoth poured across the realms of the Sindar and the Falathrim, those of us who wandered Beleriand’s verdant land were pushed against the very walls of Cirdan’s folk. We survived, but the war carried on and in the bitter fighting we lost much. The only thought we had was vengeance against the Dark Lord.”

“Then, the Noldor with bright swords and shields of flame came down on the Orcs and butchered them before us. And we rose with them, and marched to the very gates of Angband and no Orc, or Troll or Warg could stop us in those days of battle.

“When Fëanor fought on, Balrogs of Morgoth fell on him and his company, and it was all we could do to rescue him. His body was taken to be buried for he was mortally wounded, but he died and faded into mist. But before he did he bade his sons swear an oath so profound that it would change the world and destroy his people.”

“You are talking about the oath to regain the Silmarils. This is does not explain your part in this Dindraug.” Maelgwn said, unsure now.

“The oath was sworn by many there, most are dead now long since, but the oath remains to dispel the darkness. The oath remains until every supporter of Morgoth is finally gone from this world, and the foe that we stood against is finally defeated. That is what this is about. We are sailing to the end of the world to finish the oath of Fëanor.”

"We are sailing to the end of the world to finish the oath of Fëanor."


Alandriel's head spun. Not only with that last revelation but with a whole plethora of information, puzzle pieces that seemed to whirl in her head, rearranging themselves, forming new patterns, re-enforcing old ones that had lain untouched, uncompleted for many years. She closed her eyes and involuntarily took a step back, her stagger suddenly halted by the table. Her fingers dug into the edge of the worn wooden slab and only the renewed pain emanating from her shoulder kept her from sliding entirely into the darkness that threatened to engulf her.

"What do you understand and what are you prepared for?" Dindraug's words echoed through the abyss of her whirling mind.

She had not been prepared well enough the first time.

It had been during her initiation to become a Mithril Knight….

She found herself precariously perched atop a massive outcrop of jet black rock. To her back three massive peaks loomed, sending waves of utter terror coursing through the ranger; horror, like she had never experienced before. With no way of escape she was forced to watch.
A host of Elves had landed at a firth. Scores of mighty structures were ablaze, smoke rising up into the might night air. Then the host moved with incredible speed, engaged a seemingly never ending stream of enemies. Orcs! Thousands and thousands of Orcs! Cries of death and victory rang over the desolate plain. And then there was a lull as the few remaining enemies took flight, pursued by a small number of elves, a mighty warrior urging the small host fervently onward .. yet most of the elven force remained behind! Closer and closer they rushed and then, the massive black doors set into the mountain, swung open.

A flash of blinding white light had suddenly taken her …. She had never finished the spirit quest required of the Mithril Knights. Instead she had 'awoken' in the presence of Meltara, her mentor of old. Her dead mentor.

'You are not strong enough yet to experience the full initiation, the total extent of the horrors of … even as an observer… for this will only be in preparation for….'

Never had Meltara explained. Never had she named the evil. Instead she had said:

'First you must fulfil the task that was set out for you long ago; to recover your heritage; at least part of it. The one aspect that will lend you strength … strength you will need to face what is yet to come, strength to become who you were born to be…'

Some of that heritage Alandriel had uncovered – and, in the process, also unearthed her own horror.

Was she prepared now? Would she ever be?
Yet here she was, and he. Who would have thought? That now was the time she came to face …. Even with her eyes closed she could feel his presence. It stood out like a lighting beacon amongst the storm in her head.

As if to reassure herself, her hand slid to the Eket, her fingers gliding over the smooth, obsidian-like sheath of the ancient Númenorean short sword.

'I thought you understood, Ranger.' The Avari's words rolled like thunder out of the dreary mist that was her mind.

'Oh – but I understand. I understand a lot more than you possibly can fathom… and no other than you has provided the puzzle pieces to fall into place. Not everybody is my friend – you said so yourself. You – who I thought I could trust.'

Eyes still closed, her head tilted forward until her chin came to rest on her collarbone.

'The desert men of Harad, the Sapient Star sect YOU founded …. The star … the faint spiderweb-like mark I carry on my wrist… the curse, visible to all that have eyes to see….You, Dindraug, are my enemy and my friend, my ally and my foe.'



"Alandriel…."

Maelgwn's touch felt warm against her ice cold hand. Slowly the Ranger lifted her head and as her eyes once more settled on the Avari she let go of the Eket to grasp Maelgwn's hand. 'You're the only one I can trust – but how much will I need to conceal?'

"The oath remains until every supporter of Morgoth is finally gone from this world," she repeated, knowing full well what that implied. Never had she truly had a choice in the matter. Never had she been a supporter by choice yet there was no denying: she was who she was. Strangely though she did not feel malcontent. Somehow it was comforting to know who, by rights, should one day deal the final blow. The one who had started it all should also end it.
All that remained was for her to see it done – when the time was right.

"I am no Eldar yet I," letting go of Maelgwn's hand she unsheathed the Eket and, balancing the leaf shaped blade decorated with intertwining damascening, offered it to Dindraug, "I of the line of Isildur will swear to uphold it. Until the foe that we stand against is finally defeated."

Dindraug visibly blanched at seeing the blue tinted blade glint in the muted morning light pouring through the cabin. The faint scar on Alandriel's wrist was barely discernible but she was certain it would not escape the elf's keen eyes. Whether Maelgwn would notice – that was a chance she had to take.

Her right hand moved along the blade to grasp its hilt and as her fingers tightened her face momentarily contorted with pain. Slowly, with both hands, she raised the blade upright.

"I pledge my sword and life to you to take on what has been hunting you for the history of this world, that which I have been tracking for long years of my life."

She brought the blade down until its tip came to rest at Dindraug's feet. But then, the pain in her shoulder gaining the upper hand, she crumbled, the blade falling from her grasp, clattering futilely to the floor.

"I am no Eldar yet of the line of Isildur will swear to uphold it. Until the foe that we stand against is finally defeated."

He sighed, deeply, and his vibrant gaze moved from the collapsed heap that lay at his feet and caressed the wooden roof of the cabin. He let his eyes close for moment, then looked down again muttering “Atani” under his breath.

“Will you do nothing to help her Dindraug?” asked Maelgwn bringing the ancient Avari’s attention back to the situation. The half elf caught his eye momentarily and saw many things in the multi tinted depths. Hate, fear, pity and contempt; those Maelgwn was not expecting to see and his own eyes narrowed but they had gone in an instant, like sparrows hiding from a hawk.


“Help me get her over to the bed, she needs to sleep.” muttered Din, lifting the ranger gently as if she was a new born child and laying her on the narrow wooden bed. He peeled back the cloak and looked at her tunic. The shoulder was stained dark red with blood and bending to sniff her he caught the faint whiff of corruption.

“I need assistance young one, bring the hot water and I will need you to go to my cabin and fetch my bag.” Looking back at Maelgwn he saw that the half elf had picked up Alandriel’s fallen short sword and was turning it over in the light of the spluttering oil lamp.

“You want me to leave you alone with her, she called you her enemy.” Maelgwn’s eyes locked with the distorted reflection of Dindraug on the brightly polished blade. Not knowing what he saw, he looked up at Din again.

“She also called me her ally, and for now that is an adequate description. Maelgwn, I must trust you with what you have heard today; if all of it is true,” Din glanced quickly at the prone ranger. “What we are part of is a chapter in a tale that is long in telling, and it has many loose ends.” He looked at Alandriel again, frowning. “The aspect she brings to this though is interesting. An oath sworn before the fathers of men woke in the distant forests of the east, yet she would take it on based on an unclear paternity.” He laughed loudly causing the half elf to glower.

“She said she is the hair of Isildur. There are few more noble lines in Middle Earth, even counting your own.” Din noted the slight smile on the half elf’s face, for future reference.

“Did you ever meet Isildur, Maelgwn? No? Of course not, you are too young. He was an arrogant dull man, given to boasting and bluster and attained his station by birth not work. His high reputation was through luck not skill; he was nearest to his fathers sword when the two kings had beaten Sauron into the ground and the brave Prince of Gondor struck the Sorcerers hand when he aimed for his heart as the Dark Lord faced off against his brother; and a few others.” Din smiled at the incredulous look on Maelgwn’s face, and waved it off, turning his attention back to the bed. “He was also short and fat for a descendent of Elros, not like the statues he had built“. Din took a sharp thin blade and cut the moist cloth, peeling back from the wound. “I guess Alandriel is descended from one of his bastards, of which there were many”.

“Ugh, it looks like that bolt was not clean. Quick, fetch me my bag or search her own and hope she is as skilled with herbs as a ranger should be…”

A fresh breeze through his hair, and the salty smell of the sea entering his nostrils, Aglanor looked out to the horizon. The sea. He knew that there would be a day he’d sail it all the way West, to the mysterious Undying Lands, but his duty on Middle-Earth was not done. The sea called out to him, but his instinct refused to heed the call. Would this then be the final quest? After this, would he be reunited with his daughter at last? He did not know, but could only hope. His thoughts went out to her, but fear or worry did not enter his mind. She was in Valinor, and for an Elf; it doesn’t get any safer.

“Elf! The sail is loosening! I need you to tie it up tight. I want this ship to sail, not float about!” Aglanor turned around agitated, only to meet the stone stare of the pirate. Aglanor did not mind humans - not like Dindraug did at least – but this one got on his nerves. “You only need to ask, man of Umbar. And I’d watch your tongue. You may command the ship, but I’m not part of your crew, so keep it down.”

“I’ll make it easy on you, Elf. You can sit on some pillows if you like. Just show me the gold.”

Aglanor snorted. “Pay for the meager accommodations this wreck has to offer? Show me anything that is worth gold, and I’ll gladly pay it.”

“You could always go overboard and swim back. Your choice, elf. If you want to take over, be my guest. Know how to sail a ship? Of course you don’t. Till you do, you either pay for my kindness or do as I say.” Aglanor bit his teeth hard. The man had balls, though.

But he smiled. “I’ll endure your snide comments for now, Pirate. But I’ll not forget your brashness. Don’t expect kindness when we’re back on land and you’re in need of my aid.”

It wasn’t the fact he had to work that upset Aglanor. It was the damned ordering about that he got tired of. He had 5 millennia on this mortal. So without further nagging he nimbly made his way up the rope ladders, and climbed along the top mast. He had no trouble holding his balance, even as the ship rocked about and gusts of wind occasionally tried to push him off. It all came naturally to him, like he had years experience with sailing, while all he had been on were mere ferries to cross small rivers. Nothing like this. He loosened the knot, and pulled the rope up higher, till the sail stopped flapping. He jumped down from the mast, landing on the wooden deck. Looking around he guessed his assistance here was no longer needed. He went to hatch and down the stairs. The architecture of the ship was intricate and it made use of nearly every square inch of space. He walked through the small gangways and into the cabin he shared with Din. It was small, containing nothing but a bunk bed and two large chests. Aglanor opened his, and slipped into something warmer and more comfortable. He lay down on the lower bed, and thought about what had transpired these days. He didn’t know what to make of it, and apparently he was on a very strict need-to know basis. He tried to make an equation out of the fragments he had caught. It’s obviously a quest of large secrecy and peril. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be so much tension in the group. I can almost touch it. We’re heading North, which rules out Rhûn or Harad. Yet, we are chased by a Haradrim faction. Din knows something about that faction. I ought to ask him later on what’s up with that. Then there’s the two pirates. One, taken hostage by Alandriel and then escaped. The other now running this ship. Which used to belong to the other pirate. What’s their story in this? Many loose chains, but Aglanor couldn’t link them together to get a clear image. It remained a blur. He stood up, and moved around to loosen up his muscles, when he noticed Jaeniver walking past his cabin. “Ah fair lady. I was wondering when we’d get a chance to have a proper conversation. You look shaken.”

Bewildered her face turned, but she calmed down once she noticed it was him. “Oh, nothing. A parrot just flew past me out of nowhere. Probably of the previous owner of this ship.”

“Aaaah. The mysterious pirate who escaped yesterday and left his own ship to the hyena.” Aglanor mused.

Jaeniver had noticed the singular form. “Hyena? You mean Kalin?”

“Yes. Quite the sophisticated, strict-but-fair captain, no? I’ve met beggars in Minas Tirith with better manners and more elegance. But let’s not talk about that excuse for a man, shall we? When did we met last? Wasn’t it during the Battle on the foot of Erebor?”

“Well, no. It was before the battle. Before the goblins and wolves came crashing the party.” She rolled her eyes. In a way, that worked better than any diplomatic solution I may have forged. It got all you working together towards a common goal. Much better than what could’ve happened.” She rolled her eyes, at which Aglanor had to smile. Ever the diplomat.

“It is ironic, is it not? If the goblins had stayed away or be patient, they’d have been far more efficient. Then again, they are not the smartest race of Middle-Earth. I don’t expect them to come up with strategic solutions.”

“Yes, but that’s not the point. The point is that you men had to show off your muscles again and clash fists. And over something so insignificant.”

“I wouldn’t call Smaug’s treasure insignificant, Sorrow One. A lot of that treasure belonged to both Men of Dale and Elves of Eryn Lasgalen. Stubbornly the dwarves neglected that fact, and sought to keep it all to themselves. We merely tried to get what was ours by right.”

“Yes, but not by appropriate means.”

“We tried negotiation.”

Jaeniver snorted. “If you can call 5 minutes of throwing insults back and forth ‘negotiating’. If I’d been given more time, I might have come up with an adequate solution. But Thranduil had to be stubborn and not looking any further than his own nose.”

“The dwarves would not have agreed with an ‘adequate’ solution. Not while the treasure was in their backyard. But let’s not get into a discussion. We are two elves on a ship full with mostly strangers. I do not wish to drive you away over my beliefs. Come and sit, on these very comfortable beds.” He sat down himself, awkwardly positioning himself on the hard mattress and the top bunk bed hanging just a few feet above the lower. Jaeniver smiled and sat down, and for awhile they talked about pleasant things, and Aglanor cited a few of his poems. In the current circumstances it was a candle in the dark.

Areanor, having left Tibodom in his cabin, walked on in the astern direction of the ship. Small lanterns were lightening the narrow gallery. When she heard the patting of bare feet on the planks she turned, but nobody was to be seen. Only moments later, undoubtable noises could be heard. The Gondorian bit on her lip, but decided against going back. The Perian would certainly not want her to witness his reaction to the ship’s movements.

Instead she traced her steps not back to the hatch that led down into the ship’s bowels, but took the ladder upstairs to get back on deck. There her glance fell at once on Kalin, who as self-appointed master and commander behaved like a peacock spreading his tail-feathers. Putting on her face a rather severe expression, she approached him and called his attention.

“Capt’n, Sir!” He turned and frowned, but could not trace any open mockery in her behavior. “Yes? Is there something wrong?” he inquired. Areanor beamed her best smile reserved for dealing with authorities on him. “Well, you see, the sun has risen for quite some time and noone of us had breakfast or anything else. You mentioned something about provision being stored and with your permission I would like to check them out. For I am quite sure that even the men you hired back at Mithlond might be hungry at the end of the day. The halfling had proposed to do some cooking, but unfortunately he is feeling… ahem.. rather unwell.”

Areanor looked straight into Kalin’s dark eyes and shrugged. “Cooking is not a thing I’m good at, but I might try. I only wondered if among your scum.. arr.. among the seamen one might be able to cook a decent stew or at least may help me carry some things up??” Kalin looked her up and down and Areanor could imagine his thoughts. For sure he wondered about what things she might be good at while his gaze wandered over her lean body. She had seen such glances before and suddenly the thought of the slave markets of Umbar came back to her. The reek of these places still lingered in her mind and now she felt like she could almost smell it. Suddenly her dagger felt reassuringly heavy in its hiding-place.

The dark gaze finally returned to her face and Areanor grinned, trying to hide her thoughts. But the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Kalin’s smile mirrored her own, revealing his golden teeth. “I’m sorry, but all my men are busy. I even had to get these elves to work. So I’m afraid you have to cope alone though I wouldn’t mind a hot stew at the end of the day.” He looked around and frowned. “I wonder where these stubborn pointy ears have vanished now.” Areanor gritted her teeth, but she hadn’t finished yet. “Anyway, I would need the key to the lock that’s on the hatch down to the storage. I suppose you might have taken it?” His eyes narrowed, but he reached at his belt and after some fumbling gave her a small key. “Here it is, but I want it back.” She looked at him with big astonished eyes. “But sure, what did you think? As you’re the captain here…..” Then she turned on her heels and already was on her way back to the steps that led down from the deck, not heeding the feeling that he watched her all the way.

slimey southern scum she thought. Then she took a deep breath. She would have to spend some time on that ship, without space to avoid him. So the tall Gondorian decided to think about a more neutral attitude which she could build up. When they had reached their destination – whereever that might be – they would even more have to depend on every single one of their small group.

She climbed down and again started her way to the locked hatch at the end of the aisle.

With the soft click of a door closing Jaeniver took her leave from the private council that was held between the elves and the ranger. She did need not hear words to understand the matter they were discussing was a heavy one. The North, what lay there but waste lands? Barren and frozen even the sun seemed a far away star during the day giving little warmth to those who managed to make a living on the cold soil. They’d pass the Lands Under The Waves certainly. A shiver went down Jae’s spine as she climbed the small steps back up to the main deck. Drowned Lands after the war of Wrath, one of Beleriand's last battles. “Battle, always battles.” Jae mumbled. Although Jae herself had never walked the lands of Beleriand her brother had. He hadn’t stop at the Anduin like his father and mother. He had moved on with the Nandor to Ossiriand only later to return back home bringing with him the tales of destruction. Jaeniver swallowed lightly as she remembered the story of her brother’s homecoming to the Vale when Beleriand faced Dagor Bragollach. He rode on the lower grounds raising a hand in greeting to his mother but no real welcome shone from his face. Few others had returned. Most stayed behind but he had ridden home to ease his parents worries and in the hope to return with reinforcements.

The story goes that both him and her father were talking in low voices in front of the hearth nearly whispering. Her father had dejected his son’s plead for help claiming it was a lost cause already. If the Noldor would not succeed little the Nandor could do in their stead. After hours of conversation in which her brother had tried to change his father’s mind he had turned his gaze towards the fire and seemed miles away and looked defeated. The only time she heard another word about Beleriand was in an argument between her father and brother as Sauron’s revealed identity forced the elves to be more alert and ready. Enquiries were made amongst the Elves who would go into battle when the time came. It had been a touchy subject for weeks. Her brother who had stayed home after the wars in Beleriand had one morning began pressing the matter again.

“Why not aid them! Why keep aside? Are they not kin? This is just like when war was on Beleriand.” Sounds of moving chairs and her father’s deep voice hinting no anger only lack of interest. At that time Jae had not fully grasped what had passed in Beleriand only that evil struck that part of Arda so that it had drowned. Jae moved closer to the door to hear his words. “Their battle is not mine. I shall not bring down war upon us too may it come that far.”

“War has already reached our shores, it’s only a matter of time before he will cross the Mountains. Are you so blind in your own isolation that you cannot see this father? You have sat upon that throne of yours too long. It has made your once wise judgement lacking insight.”

“Silence! I shall do as I see right and you shall abide by my wishes. My final awnser is no. I shall not aid them nor shall you as long as you live in my realm under my rule.”

“I see your mind has been made up. All I can say is remember the Sunken Lands. We may yet be less fortunate this time.“

No more shouts, just calm words as her brother opened the door and Jae had to leap to make it around the corner pressing herself against the cold stone of the wall. Although she could not see what passed between her father and brother she could hear him descend the stairs to the hall before he turned around and said regretfully; “I would almost begin to believe what is said about the Nandor residing in the Vale, they care for naught but themselves. Good day father.” Only with the fading sounds of his steps did Jae slip out of her hiding place and stared at her father. He gave her one glance before taking a deep breath, lifting his head proudly. How could he have forseen what would come to pass only three years later. He could not have aided anybody even if he had wished to do so after all. Her thoughts trailed off as she casted a glance westwards

“It was not your fault ada.” A sudden homesickness came over her. Not more then a soft brush touching the back of her mind but it had her doubting decisions made many years ago. But she knew as she gazed westwards that there, behind the pale sunlight, her family was safe. The cold wind kissed her cheeked till they had a trace of pink and the elf grew tired of pushing tousled strands of black hair out of her face in order to see. It was almost as if the clever north wind did not want her to gaze out over sea. Something might get seen.

Turning round her keen eyes got caught by an usual sight. A group of the sailors whom Kalin had brought on board were confering in low voices, their heads hung but yellow eyes very much alert. Like foxes keeping guard. ‘Guarding what?’ she mumbled as she quietly observed them. One fumbled in one of his ravelled pockets in search of something it seemed. He glanced about cautiously then cupped his hands and showed the contents of his hands to the group meaningful grins were flashed before the precious secret was put back in the man’s pocket. The one in charge of the secret flashed something that had to pass for a crooked smile in the direction of his superior. Jae followed his gaze and found it resting on the pirate.

“No honour amongst thieves then.” Jae whispered as she observed the man shouting either commands or insults to Aglanor who was busy with the sails. That line was easily crossed by Kalin she had learned. The pirate seemed not to know his crew had set themselves apart and even if he did he did not let it show. This would indeed prove to be an interesting journey. Perhaps a bit too interesting for Jae’s likes. Somehow the thought of secrets made her think of the pouch she had taken from Arunakhor that lay stuffed under pillow along with the knife Dindraug had granted her to use. A grim smile curled her lips. Who would had thought that she would sleep with a knife under her pillow. Many happenings could change a person she knew. But so drastically and so quick? “Din, always Dindraug and his way of setting too many things in motion. Wouldn’t be that bad if I hadn’t been involved. Always that elf and his tricks.” She muttered to herself all the way from deck down to the cabins and was slightly dissapointed to find Aglanor there.Somehow he had managed to escape Kalin’s command. She had hoped for a few minutes to herself to see just reveal the secrets hidden . ‘Later. There’s time.’ Quickly she glanced over at her top bunk and felt herself relax when she saw the sheets had not been moved or so much as even touched.

“Ah fair lady. I was wondering when we’d get a chance to have a proper conversation.”

A faint smile appeared as she nodded more to the light way of conversation that the comment itself. She had wondered too what exactly Thranduil’s advisor was doing here. ‘same as me I guess.’ Aglanor seemed not at all distressed by the curren events. Just how often did he run into assassins, pirates and steps aboard a ship? She shook the question from her mind. He was ever the militant.

After memories and old jibes Aglanor rose seeing Jae loosing more and more interest and at one point stare at a spot on the wall a pondering look making lines on her brow . “I think I will have to get back.” It was his turn to frown worriedly when there was no reply. The sudden weight of his hand on her shoulder made Jae shoot up her eyes meeting his.
“Jae?”
“I’m fine. I’m sorry I am just a little…not here I guess.I’m sorry.” An apologetic smile made Aglanor shake his head “Don’t apologise, it’s been no doubt a trying day. For an ambassador.” He added kindly with a squeeze of his hand.

“How right you are. “ she mumbled as she raked through her hair as she watched him leave. The sounds of his boots on the wooden deck had died before she stirred. Outside the cabin Kalin was still shouting orders and when he wasn’t a tune arose from his croaky throat. The crew were back to work. Almost apeasingly.

Quickly she threw back her blackets and slid her hand under her pillow, removing a soft leather pouch. It weighed heavy in her hand. Carefully Jae untied the black strings revealing yet another pouch and with a soft jingle did two coins fall on her pillow.with the coins in one hand and the second pouch the other Jae let her eyes take in the coins. Their inscription had become unreadable in the passing of time and now only a vague symbol was left, hardly discernable. A snake perhaps. Its curly tail embraced something which had got erased. Putting the smooth coins back on her pillow the elf shifted her gaze to the second pouch This second one was smaller and tattered. . She found herself holding her breath slightly as she opened it. It revealed an item that was in beter condition then the pouch. It contained a small but precious bottle. Glinstering black set with copper and even the corck had a small tip of copper that fitted the bottle perfectly. This was done by a craftsman she could tell. Turning the bottle around in her hand Jae thought the bottle showed resemblence to Harad. Her hand moved to the corck...

Time could not be counted. Or at least Tibo could not count it. Somehow, after his arrival, he had found his way to the deck, and somehow back to the cabin, after the not so meagre content of his stomach had ended up as food for the fishes. It seemed ages to him – and he will be very astonished once he gets up to see that it would be not even tow entire days, during which he had been able to get up sometimes and about which he would not be able to tell for weeks later what had been dream and imagination and what had been true. But let’s not rush things over… for the moment; Tibodom was seasick on the deck of the ship. Somewhere else, secrets were revealed that would alter his life in a way he could not even think of – but for the moment, Tibo who is of course more concerned by them than you, dear reader, knows less of them than you do.

But does that really have any impact on his decisions? He can’t leave the ship any more – and regardless of the fact, that it is highly doubtful that Tibodom only knows who Fëanor is and what oath he has sworn, and why, and when – the hobbit does not need any reason worth telling tales for later ages, he has taken his decision and the image of Daisy Cotton’s smile on the day he will come back (because he is sure to come back) and the mysterious eyes of Legyviel mix in his mind to some delicious dream to carry him over the sea-sickness, the fear of water – better than any Silmaril in the world could do. Have I lost you, dear reader? Do you think, bored, that we should get back to that cute little hobbit now, and that you rather want to know how he will fare? Right you are…

In his cabin, Tibo fell on the bed – largely big enough for him, as everything on he boat had been made for the big folk. Although the world was more or less blur for him, he remembered that he had put some cheese and bread on the table – don’t forget he is a hobbit and in doubt, food will always mark his mind. But there was none left now, and the hobbit wondered if his rolling stomach was playing tricks on him. However, it must have been for the first time in years, that his stomach was indeed empty, and quickly he fell asleep. Unfortunately for the other members of the expedition, his snoring remained unaffected by all other events of his life, may they be colourful or not. His dreams were nonetheless troubled. He saw that man in the inn again, that man falling under his weapon, lying on the ground in that form that he could not have held more than a second being alive. The hen felt like Daisy was there, laying a cool hand on his warm forehead and smiling at him over the darkness in the cabin. But all of a sudden, Daisy’s face changed, and it was the captain or pirate or whoever, that guy he had seen jumping over the board of the ship. For a moment, Tibodom even thought that he was awake, so real seemed the face bending over him, but when he blinked, it was gone – and when he sat up, he felt no hunger at all – which led him to the conclusion that he must have been dreaming. He could not imagine a hobbit waking up without being hungry.

Sometimes, it seemed to him to hear noises too, as if the floor of his cabin was cracking under the feet of someone – but then on this spooky thing which they had named a ship, which was able to take his appetite out of a hobbit – how could someone be sure that it was not just the wind, or some wraith walking over the ship?

But even endless seeming time comes to an end and one morning, when he woke up, Tibodom was instead astonished that nothing was twirling around him. Everything he could see was clear. When he set his foot on the ground, he did not feel as if the floor would open and grab his feet hair to tear him into the sea. In fact, he was hungry. So finally, after two days of hiding, Tibodom managed not only to get up, but actually to walk around a bit in his cabin, and to state that the boat would not sink under his very steps in the next second. Of course, his first steps took him to his back pack in the hope to find some rests of food in there –had he not packed some cheese and ham, and even if his bread would be dry by now, there should have been some, not to talk of the apples. But astonishing enough, he did not find as much as a crumb – were there mice on the ship? Or had he eaten without remembering it?

However, Tibo felt well enough to venture out of his cabin. He followed the aisle, which he dimly remembered, and through the thin wooden separations between the different cabins, he heard some voices, which he could not distinguish clearly. As he did not see how to find where the voices were coming from, he rather followed the draft of fresh air streaming in form outside. Quickly he reached the door leading outside to the deck, and to his great delight he found himself standing firmly this time on the planks in the wind of the sea.

The only time, Tibodom had even seen the sea from so close before had been in the harbour shortly before they left. But now, there was no hurry (except for breakfast), and it was daylight already, the late morning. The air over the sea was colder than Tibodom would have suspected, but now that he was taking a deep breath, under the salty note, he felt something almost sweet and vigorous, as if he could drink and almost touch this air of the sea. He felt like smiling without knowing precisely why. The sound of the waves did no longer seem threatening to him, but he felt as if they were obeying to some secret rhythm and carrying the ship on their wings – had he not been so hungry, Tibodom would have felt poetic.

But he was hungry, so he was more than happy to see another member of the company standing on the other side of the deck, and maybe he was the only who would have shown such delight to see Kalinel Dileen.

“Kalinel” he called out, and the corsair turned around and greeted the hobbit with a smeary smile.

“Master Hobbit! So you are back on your feet! Legyviel, Jaeniver and Areanor have been looking after you at regular intervals during your sickness.”

“Have they?”
Tibodom could feel that his cheeks must have slightly blushed (not that anybody should use that excuse to pinch them – be it now or later!).
“I would be glad to see them and show how much better I am, then. But...”
Tibo felt like blushing at those words again.
“I get lost in this ship. Maybe you can show me the way around, and lead me to some place where I could see all the fine company again, and eventually find some breakfast.”

Kalinel was grinning at those words. Having spent a huge part of his life on ships the idea of getting lost on one was not familiar to him but if there was any mockery in the grin, the hobbit did not perceive it.

“Sure, I can show a bit - and once you found your way to the kitchen, maybe you can be of some use there, that Gondorian is obviously not at her place in there.”

The disregarding snort showed nevertheless clearly that Kalinel thought that a kitchen was one of the only places where he would like to see a woman. Eagerly, the hobbit smiled at the corsair with his disarming look of trust, and followed him, surprised how easy it was in the end to walk on the moving planks that had seemed his enemy during the first days on sea.

He looked forward to seeing the rest of the company again and once his appetite was satisfied would be curious where their voyage was leading them – and why. But how much of the purpose of the voyage he would learn, how much he would understand, and what part of his dreams had been real or imagination – dear reader you will have to wait until Tibodom has found coffee, bread, honey and friend to his satisfaction to learn about it.

Cutting through the quiet water, Arunakhôr drew in air through clenched teeth. Each stroke bringing him further away from his ship strained him to the utmost, physically, yet surprisingly also emotionally.

The ship that through centuries past had brought him to hither and thither was his home. He knew the sound of the water lapping against the hull and the timbers creaking with the roll. He knew the whistling of the wind in the rigging according to angle and speed. And nothing, nothing was as breathtaking as the setting sun casting its red golden beams on the waves and the wood, peaking through the rigging and caressing the sails before everything turned into utter darkness under a star lit sky.

Gulls’ screeches resounded low over the water. The Corsair followed their glide and then he looked over his shoulder, drawn by that what he was about to let go - for now. Her dark contours stood out against the pale morning sky, the tall mast almost fragile in the crispy air. She was but a shadow of the Prophet, reborn to serve him - or was it the other way around? Whatever way, it was unclear if Arunakhôr knew of this or not, or avoided giving all the clues that were there any more thought at all cost. Still, the Age of being less than the memories they left behind them had yet to come, if it ever would.

He had to get her back.

In his mind he already ran over the various ways in which he could achieve this. Looking at the other vessels moored in the harbour he knew that none of them had the speed needed for a pursuit of his Agannâlô, or the solidity to survive the weather and the northern waters. Her choice of ship had been a wise one, and was his curse. An escape had looked like the only possibility yet now, minutes later, it looked like treason towards the ship that had been his ally in venturing to the four winds for many a century.

Either this way - being the direction of the pier - or that way, he knew he could not procrastinate in the water any longer if he wanted to prevent his body from going into hypothermic shock. He had been there, once, and that one experience had been enough. Not another second he lingered in thoughts - inhaling deeply he then slowly sank beneath the surface.

~~ ~~ ~~

Fingers, numbed by the frigid water, broke through the surface of Mithlond’s harbour waters and clawed for purchase. The tug of the water pulled down the Corsair's sleeve - revealing the scars marked on his bronzed arm - as his fingertips scraped over the hull of the dark wooded ship that was his. Spluttering he at last broke through the water and he drew in air sharply, catching his breath. To stay unnoticed he had covered both distances – back and forth - under water for the greater part. It had been one option out of two evils, for with each stroke he had felt the warmth flowing gradually from his body.

Gently he tread water, for after that swim his legs suddenly felt cramped, and manoeuvred until he was right under a ladder wrought into the side of the hull. He tried to reach for the lowest rung, still a good arm’s length above him. The ship’s cargo was not yet heavy enough to give it that comfortable draught that would make circumstances easier now that strength was slipping from him. Failing a few times, every following attempt to newly strain upwards became harder. He cursed silently while he looked upwards in despair.

Suddenly the Agannâlô heeled over towards him. No more than a few degrees, as if a wave had gently nudged it in his direction. Arunakhôr realized this might be his only chance. With clenched jaws he uttered a groan while he swung his stiff arm upwards once more. His grazed fingers grabbed the rung - it was his eyes that convinced his mind of this achievement, for his fingers had lost most of their feeling. While the ship slowly rolled back, its wooden bowels groaned, and a shudder seemed to draw through its entire length.

Voices were carried over the water - voices shouting. Yet Arunakhôr was too numb and too focussed for the words to register and notice that slowly his ship was being pulled away from the quay. His boots scraped over the hull, as he tried to find whatever he could to push off against in order to relieve his weight, hanging on only his fingertips. He found nothing. Keeping his ship in good order always had been a priority to him - speed and seaworthiness were two of the main qualities required in any Corsair ship. Yet now he wished he had postponed that last careening somewhat longer.

“Ye twerp…” he scowled himself under his breath, his teeth chattering uncontrollably at this point. “What has become of ye? A little cold, a little loss of blood, and ye turn into a sponge.” His body hurt, it burned. He cursed, frustrated as he had become over his quickly weakened condition.

“Ye miserable… sprat… ye… arrgh!”

As if his anger bared some forgotten reserves he suddenly found the strength to pull himself up. He grabbed for the rung above it and in the same breath he climbed higher, and higher, until he at last found purchase for his feet as well.

A familiar screech resounded high in the sky – he looked up but saw naught of his red-feathered friend. No time was granted him to ponder over the fact if he would ever see him again. He did not notice his skin had become paler when his hand reached out to his left. Gently, shivering, his fingers caressed one of the hull’s boards. Long had it been since he last had to sneak onto his own ship, but for this type of circumstances he had foreseen a fitting solution.

It was with the last of his strength that he pushed hard against the hull until part of the boards suddenly gave way. The hatch crashed with creaking hinges and came to a stop against the inside of the hull. The rumpus had alarmed some rats that now fled with hurried tippling sounds through every hole large enough for them to fit.

Arunakhôr grabbed for the rim and tumbled down through the narrow opening onto the dusty floorboards of a cabin. He shivered uncontrollably while he tried to shut the hatch. Then he fell to the floor curling up into a foetal position, slurring through chattering teeth: “I’ve... made it.”

If his consciousness hadn’t been so dazed he would have fully realised this wasn’t by far a certainty. He had managed to find passage to his ship, yes. But the stay in the cold water had thoroughly dropped his body temperature. Fumbling at his wet clothes he tried to strip them off, succeeding in little steps that alternated with waves of shivering. His look was void while he gazed around him, forgotten where he was... Clumsily he floundered forward, collapsed, crawled forward some more, his numb hands reaching for something, anything! Then... what was it? ... He couldn’t see much in this darkness, yet it felt like something large and flexible enough to wrap himself into. Shaking violently he curled up, making himself as small as possible. He lay there helplessly, sometimes even unconscious, until the pauses in between the waves became longer and he finally drifted off into a restless slumber.

He saw flashes that were part of the past... reflections of a child’s face into a pool of water – eyes dark, sparkling. He could smell the fragrances that were so characteristic after a thunderstorm during a hot and dry summer. His paternal house located near the harbour of Rómenna came into vision. A lively melody drifted towards him through the opened window of the kitchen. A voice so pure...

Sounds nearby caused Arunakhôr to suddenly stir in his sleep. The slow rocking of the ship - now that it left the harbour - was such a familiar feeling that it did not register. Yet the creaking of a door being shut made him blink instantly. The cold that finally seemed to have diminished suddenly returned. He remained still yet his eyes glanced panicky in the twilight, at first confused about his whereabouts and with the expectation that any moment a rope would be strapped around his neck. His fist pinched harder in the oilskin in which he was wrapped. He shivered.

The soft footsteps were followed by a thud. Then there was a moment of silence, yet no attack followed. No attempt was made to slice his throat. Just when he thought his ears had been playing tricks on him the footsteps resounded again, yet this time in a more hurried way. The door creaked and the padding dissolved into the sounds of lashing waves and wailing timber. Arunakhôr finally dared to breathe again.

He waited another moment before he also dared to move. Then he rolled over. His eyes now were gazing at the side from whence the sounds had come. A half-smile slowly curved his pained face – given the circumstances it was all he was capable to at the moment. Yet this one reassurance was enough at the moment.

They would not easily find him here.

It was a strange thing, this wound. It bled only slowly but steadily, yet when an effort was made to staunch the flow the blood came faster and thicker. Lying in her uncomfortable bed on board the ship, Legyviel dazedly pondered this mystery, the fingers of her right hand resting lightly on her neck. Her head felt light, her body cumbersomely heavy. The rocking of the Agannâlô sometimes made her feel nauseous, yet oddly comforted at others. And all the while she slipped in and out of sleep, her slumber troubled by dark dreams which gave her only questions and little rest. The wound throbbed painfully, sometimes only a little, sometimes excruciatingly.

Legyviel moaned softly and turned on her side. Had she been in her normal state of mind, she would have been annoyed at and scorned her own weakness. But her mind was wandering, her thoughts giving way to the all-encompassing sweetness of sleep, a sleep she would have given much to have undisturbed. But that was not to be….

It was a darkness unlike the one behind her closed lids. It was a darkness lanced with points of light which she longed to reach out to, but couldn’t grasp. And then it was darkness no longer, but a long, narrow corridor she walked down without knowing why. There’s was no door at the end of it, no light to give her hope, only a long endless, grey corridor and she walking down it with a mounting sense of dread. She didn’t want to go down this path. She didn’t want to go down this path. The thought entered her head without the consent of her brain, and she shuddered because she knew it to be true. There was something at the end, wherever the end was, that she didn’t want to meet. There was someone whose power was drawing her inexorably towards that something at the end, and she was powerless to stop it. It frightened her, a feeling enhanced by the facts that dreams are often made up almost entirely of feelings. That thought came unbidden too, a point of logic engulfed by the dark fear and helplessness…

But it was fading now, or becoming lighter and there were cool, unfeeling eyes fixed on her. A hand tipped with dark, shining nails reached out to her, and she knew she'd seen it before but she didn't want to remember where, and then that was fading too and being replaced by a familiar hobbit’s face, peering down at her with concern. Déjá vu. She was back in the inn after the woman had gone and there was Tibo’s face, peering down at her with an expression of concern. He faded and was replaced by Jaeniver, then Areanor, Alandriel, Tanith, Kalin, Arunakhôr, Dindraug, Aglanor, more shadowy figures all in quick succession, and then the faces were melting and merging and becoming one, red hair, clear eyes, bronzed skin with scars, brown eyes, green clothes, ebony hair, a mixture of colours and people that left her dizzy and gasping. Only she wasn’t drawing air, because there was something clamed over her mouth, suffocating her--

Cool, wet, on her forehead. Someone was speaking in low, melodic tones. The coolness was taken away and then came back. Wetness, again, more than before. Legyviel moved her head sideways and opened her eyes, struggling to sit up.

Jaeniver sat in small stool beside her, managing, despite the cramped space, to still look dignified. She held a white cloth in her hand, dipping it into a bucket and sponging Legyviel’s brow. The elfess smiled to see her charge awake.
“Well, well, look who’s deigned to rejoin the land of the living. Don’t ever scare us like that again,” she added, in a more serious voice. Legyviel frowned, wondering what she meant. Before she could pose a question, Areanor came into view and smiled at her.

“You’ve had quite a fever for the last day. I’ve put some salve on the wound and it seems to be getting better although the ointment will need to be reapplied tomorrow morning,” she said. Legyviel’s hand crept to her neck.

“And it worked? I tried something before, but it only worsened the…..cut,” she said, still unwilling to call it a bite. “What was in it?”

“Athelas, amongst other herbs,” Areanor replied, and understanding flashed between the two. Legyviel nodded, satisfied, and sank back into the pillows. Pillows?

“Jae, did you give me your pillow too?” she asked, her eyes accusing. Jae shrugged, unconcerned.

“You’ll need it more than I will tonight. Now rest. I’ll wager you’ve been having some bad dreams and little sleep because of the fever, so you’ll need it,” she said, standing up and moving towards the door. Legyviel smiled her thanks and let the heavy tides of slumber take her under.



Daylight filtered through the tiny, round window below deck. Legyviel woke from a night of sweet, untroubled sleep, blinked, and closed her eyes again. This time she slept lightly….

But dark shadows gathered on the edges of her mind. Seething creatures swirled in the mist and she tried to turn away but was dragged onwards. It was that same dream she’d had before, walking down a corridor, on and on towards an impending doom, the knowledge of which tormented her. She didn’t want to be here. SHE DIDN’T WANT TO BE HERE!

Her eyes flew open. Someone was bending over her, a fierce bronze face marred with a scar here and there, a menace from her dreams. It had followed her to the land of the living! She gasped, and stuck out instinctively, catching the being on his nose. There was an ominous crack--

Kalin el Dineen reeled backwards and abruptly sat down on the stool, cursing and clutching his nose. Legyviel sat up uncertainly, looked around the tiny cabin-room and surmised that it had, indeed, been his nose she had just broken. Wincing in belated sympathy, she rose from the bed, clutching the blanket around her, and went to crouch in front of him.

“I’m sorry, I mistook you for something else,” she said wistfully. He glared at her through the blood blossoming on his face.
“Something?” he snarled.

“My apologies,” Legyviel sighed, then her eyes instantly sharpened. “Kalin el Dineen, what were you doing in my cabin while I slept?” she asked suspiciously. The Corsair took his time in reply, stoically feeling the crack in his nose and looking around for something to stop the flow of blood with. Legyviel got up and moved about the cabin, collecting cloth and salves and helped him clean up. Finally, face now blood-free and nose slowly healing with the ointment Legyviel had provided, Kalin answered her question.

“I came to give ye this,” he said, reaching into his pocket and producing a corked bottle. A greenish substance glittered inside, and Legyviel recognized it as the slave Areanor had told her had to be reapplied that morning. Raising her eyebrows, she took the bottle from him and began applying the tincture to her wound, still expectant. Surely there had to be more. Kalin hesitated.

“And…to tell ye. The hobbit’s taken sick. Been feverish for a day now. The elf thought you’d want to know,” he said with great diffidence. Legyviel’s mouth formed a small O of surprise, her eyes wide with concern. She frowned at the mention of an elf.

“Jeaniver?” she asked, and Kalin nodded.

“Aye, that be the one,” he said, casting her a look and getting up to leave. Legyviel rose too, her mind on Tibodom.

“I’m sorry about your nose,” she said just before he left. He look on his face was lost in her worry over the hobbit, and she hardly noticed it. But he waved his hand to show it was nothing and the two parted ways, heading towards opposite points on the ship.

She spent the next day looking after Tibodom with Jaeniver and Areanor, and felt great relief when his seasickness and fever finally abated enough for him to wake. Still weak from her own ordeal, she left him in capable hands and took refuge in what could pass as the dining room. Feeling slightly dazed from the way her head was spinning, she sank into a nearby chair and put her head in her hands. Thick strands of silver-blue hair swung passed her and pooled in her lap and she sat still for long moments, until a soft footfall made her look up. Tibodom had entered the dining hall, no doubt in search of breakfast for his empty stomach. Legyviel smiled, her dizziness under control.

“Glad I am indeed to see you on your feet again, master hobbit.”