Upon a sign from his captain, Khômiyi stepped forward, and in his raspy, crow-like voice asked them to follow him. Two of Khorazîr’s guards and the two rangers, Turgon and Aralas by name, stayed behind with the crew – to lend a hand if required, as Khorazîr put it, to the laughter of the crew who had their own opinion of the ‘landlubbers’. In truth Faramir knew his friend did not wish to take any chances, and thus make certain his men had an eye on the corsairs whenever possible, and moreover to remain on deck lest all of them be led into a trap at once. He also was certain the corsairs were aware of this, and were viewing this open display of caution with humour, or even approved of it, as they would have acted likewise.
The small man led them aft and down a short flight of stairs below decks, to a surprisingly spacious cabin at the stern of the vessel, underneath the quarterdeck, which Faramir assumed was the captain’s own. The light filtering in through the small, partly shuttered windows at the rear glinted on gilt lamps hanging on stout timbers upholding the low ceiling, and played on richly ornamented rugs which covered the walls. Most of the furniture had apparently been removed to make space for several hammocks which had been fastened to hooks on the beams and were swaying gently with the ship’s movements, and for low, narrow berths along the walls, to serve for seating as well as sleeping. Two large chests remained, also richly decorated with metal fittings, and secured by large locks. Faramir suspected they contained some of the captain’s riches, and had been too heavy and unwieldy to move. Mingled with the smell of tar and wood and the sea, a heady, spicy scent very different from the musty smell Faramir had expected below decks lingered on the air. Some kind of strange incense, he assumed, and decided he did not really want to know more about it. He was glad about the veil covering his lower face, as it kept out some of the smell.
Khômiyi bade them accommodate themselves, and apologised for the lack of space. Indeed, the cabin was small for nine men, but since some part would most likely be on watch, or else spend as much time as possible at the fresh air if the weather allowed, it would do, as Khorazîr assured the corsair.
“The captain will be with you shortly,†said Khômiyi, “once we have mastered the rapids. This is a treacherous river.†With that, he turned and closing the door behind him, left. Faramir half expected to hear a key turn in the lock, but nothing happened of the kind, and he told himself he was regarding the corsairs with more suspicion than seemed appropriate.
The men had looked up at the mention of rapids, and indeed the ship’s motion had changed from a gentle sway to a more forceful, rocking one. Dorgil who had been walking across the cabin soon found himself clutching a hammock to steady himself. Faramir had sunk down on one of the berths, resting his head against the rug-covered bulkhead and closing his eyes. Despite this soft carpet which dulled the slight tremors and shivers of the vessel’s hull, he could feel the ship’s struggle against the river. It heaved and trembled, and once he thought he could hear the harsh grating of the sharp keel on something hard and unyielding. Footsteps pattered on the deck above, voices were raised in command, and there was a low rumble and a grating sound as apparently the oars were lowered into the water. Again orders were shouted and acknowledged, and the ship’s violent motion eased somewhat.
“Bloody corsairs,†Faramir heard Dorgil mutter, and when with an effort he opened his eyes and looked about, he found the men’s faces paler than before, betraying their anxiety. One of Khorazîr’s men looked even worse – obviously he was battling an onslaught of seasickness, clapping a hand to his mouth and looking completely wretched. Only Khorazîr himself appeared fairly unconcerned. He was walking about with surprising steadiness, surveying the colourful rugs before settling down on one of the massive chests and studying its lock.
“I wonder what he keeps in there,†he mused, his teeth glinting briefly in the dim light as he smiled, then noticing the dire plight of his guard, “Get yourself up on deck, Murâd, before you spoil our dear captain’s floor,†he told the man, with only a faint hint of amusement. Murâd dashed out of the cabin with a speed Faramir would not have thought possible on the heaving ground.
“Azrubâr appears to be doing well,†he remarked glancing back at Khorazîr, glad about the conversation since sleep was again calling to him persuasively. The wound on his chest was throbbing faintly. It was not yet painful, not unless he moved his arm, but nevertheless it was a sure sign that today’s journey had cost him far more strength than he was willing to admit. Dorgil came to sit beside him, wearing his habitual concerned frown. Just as Khorazîr was about to reply, the healer said gently, “Captain, if you are tired, you should sleep. Never mind this corsair. We will watch him. You need to rest. Lay down on this cot. These hammocks are not for you, not with this injury.â€
“His account may be important,†Faramir muttered, cursing his weakness which had conquered his otherwise so steady self-control that in the past had allowed him to go without sleep for several nights on end. Yet he did not protest when Dorgil helped him out of his boots and outer garments. “He may know more about the situation in Umbar, he may have tidings of –â€
“I will make sure to inquire about that, Dúnadan,†Khorazîr fell in. “I shall squeeze him out like a sponge. Actually, the less you show yourself on deck, the better – lest someone recognises you. Remember, right now you are just one of my guards. And as such, I command you to sleep now.â€
Too exhausted to object, Faramir only nodded as carefully he lay down on the berth. It was narrow and hard, and the blanket which Dorgil spread about him smelled even more strongly of the strange incense than the rest of the cabin, but for now he did not mind. Within moments, he was fast asleep.
+
He woke when a light was brought up to his face. There was a whisper of voices in the background, too soft to be understood. For a moment he lay with his eyes still closed, wondering slightly why his bed was swaying gently and there was a creaking and groaning and dull throbbing all about him. Then he remembered he was on a ship. Slowly opening his eyes, they fell on Dorgil sitting next to his head on the berth, a tray on his lap with a lamp and some foot and drink. His face brightened when he noticed his captain was awake.
“Good morning, sir,†he greeted Faramir. “How are you?â€
Still struggling with the remainder of sleep keeping hold of him, Faramir nodded in sign that he was feeling rather well-rested, and that his shoulder had ceased throbbing. Then he realised what Dorgil had said. “‘Tis morning already?â€
The healer smiled. “Aye. Noon, almost. You slept far more than half a day, and I told the men to let you sleep. Most were too seasick anyway to keep you company, and spent most of the night feeding Harnen’s fish over the gunwale, much to the amusement of the corsairs and their notorious captain. And your Southron friend, who sadly is quite unaffected by the ship’s motion.â€
“But we are still on the river, are we not?†inquired Faramir, stretching carefully.
“We are approaching the Ethir Harnen now, and will reach the open sea in the late afternoon, if all goes well and we do not run aground on the shoals. The corsair has been driving his men relentlessly during the night, with many a curse from the lads and a smack of the bosun’s lash to keep them at their work and shut their loose mouths. The wind was not favourable, still strong from the west, and the river is too narrow for much tacking. Still, we should have a fair wind for Gondor once we reach the sea. Apparently we were lucky, however. This storm some nights ago brought some rain which caused the river to swell. The current sped our journey considerably, or so I heard the captain tell Lord Khorazîr. It was fairly difficult, thought. They had to navigate through several tight spots and around shoals, not to mention those rapids. But, despite my reluctance to see much good in these renegades, they seem to be handling their vessel with skill and circumspection. And they have got some stout lads at the oars. Umbarian slaves, as Azrubâr told us proudly, showing them off to us like a man might display his collection of strange beasts. Apparently they were captured at sea, and their ships taken a prizes and sold very profitably.†His cheerful, excited expression darkened, and turned thoughtful and grave. “I do not approve of slavery, and neither do you, I know. And despite knowing that some Umbarian upstarts are getting what they deserve right now, and are working off some of their penance ... still, you should see them. They are not treated worse than they would on other, similar ships, still I pity them. No man should be forced to work under the constant threat of the whip, not even those Umbarians.â€
Faramir had pulled himself into a sitting position while the healer had been talking, and now reached for the cup with steaming tea Dorgil was proffering him on the tray, “I understand you very well, Dorgil,†he said quietly. “‘Tis always the question of how much punishment one should receive, whatever the crime. I keep imagining what to do if I should ever capture Al-Jahmîr, and be in a position to punish him for his crimes. Right now, I doubt I would quail to see him pulling an oar on the vessel of a man he has wronged, or doing worse labour, nor knowing that if he slackened, he would receive a smack of the lash. And at the same time I am appalled that I should even think so, and afraid of what is happening to me. I do not wish for my soul to be poisoned by the desire for revenge, and by cruelty. I fear I would not know how to turn back if I stepped upon that road.†He shifted the cup to his right hand resting on the blanket and ran the other over his eyes.
Dorgil glanced down at his hands holding the tray. “Nay, that would not be you anymore, captain,†he agreed softly, looking very different from the man who only some hours ago had proclaimed savagely that he should like to pour poison on Al-Jahmîr. Glancing up and meeting Faramir’s gaze steadily, he said, “And I doubt you would ever become like that. You will know when to draw the line, as you have shown so often before, during the War and later. We always admired you, I and the lads did, for your sense of justice, and your mercy. I do not think any prisoner nor any of our foes was ever treated cruelly or unjustly, or if he was, it happened because somebody disregarded your orders.†He smiled faintly. “You know, at times the men even considered you too soft and lenient, until they realised that there was not only mercy ruling your decisions, but also foresight, and cunning. I am sure this foresight is not going to fail you when you have to deal with Al-Jahmîr. And perhaps the decision concerning the Snake’s fate will be taken out of your hands entirely.â€
Faramir nodded slightly, staring down into the steam rising from his tea-cup. He did not know if he should truly hope that this decision would not be required of him indeed, or if that would be a too easy route of escape from responsibility. And did he not desire revenge, if he was honest with himself? The Snake had to be brought to justice, yes, and there had to be punishment, for sure. But if he could add a little extra to pay the other back for the grief and pain and despair he had caused him these past years ... would he forgo the opportunity?
He was relieved to have his musings interrupted when Dorgil changed topic. Indicating the tea, he said, “I thought I should better boil the water they have here, lest you catch some disease in your weakened state – although I daresay you look much better today. The sleep was really necessary.â€
Faramir nodded while taking a careful sip from the cup – it contained a light peppermint-tea, obviously donated by Khorazîr or one of his men, who seemed very fond of it, brewing it whenever an opportunity presented itself. “The captain,†said Faramir after swallowing another sip, “what kind of a man is he? Did you have a chance to talk to him, or at least listen to his account?â€
Dorgil nodded, rolling his eyes. “Oh yes, I had. He invited Lord Khorazîr and me and Mezlâr who he seems to have met before to dinner yestereve (as we were the only ones neither on watch nor seasick). And I am glad my ears are still attached to my head and have not fallen off from his tales. He likes to talk and boast and brag a lot, Captain Azrubâr does, and his men love him for it. His tales were fascinating, and well recounted, for sure, but I doubt less than half of what he has told us has truly happened, and the rest he has elaborated so that one has to constantly filter truth from fancy, and with a large sieve, too. But at least his account of the situation in Umbar appears to be close to the truth, and consistent with what young Azrahil recounted.â€
He smiled wryly. “I doubt there would be much to elaborate, even for this highly imaginative corsair. Umbar is in uproar. Many traders seem to have fled the city, whereas other folk flock to it, mercenaries and people who believe they can profit from the upheavals. Governor Beretar appears to be hard-pressed. He does not have many men with him, and has recalled most as were out on patrol. He has issued a curfew to keep folk in check, but as you can imagine, he has not really gained any friends that way. A number of Haradaic warships from neighbouring fiefs has come in to keep an eye on the Gondorian vessels and keep them from carrying word to Gondor, and more are on their way, which made leaving the bay and gaining the open sea a difficult and dangerous venture. It looks like one of the reasons for our fearless captain to embrace this errand so eagerly was the opportunity to get away from Umbar and vicinity for a while. The closer to Gondor and our fleet, he appears to reason, the safer for the moment. He does seem loyal and moreover indebted to Lord Khorazîr, however, and despite his frequent chestful or even stingy remarks concerning us Gondorians, I do not think we need to fear him. I only wish we could let some more air into this cabin,†he ended, casting a glance round the compartment. “This bloody incense, it cannot be healthy. We had our meal in a smaller cabin forward, underneath the fo’c’s’le, and the room was filled with these poisonous fumes. Worse than what the King and certain lords are doing to sweet galenas when they smoke it.â€
“Why Dorgil,†remarked Faramir with a grin, “I did not know you were that fluent in the sailors’ tongue.â€
The healer flushed slightly. “Well, my cousin lives down in Pelargir whence my family hails and has been sailing as master on several ships. He is about to be made captain on his own vessel come next spring. I am hoping to get my eldest into the navy, for he loves the sea. He would also make a good healer one day, but I fear he will never be happy with his feet on steady ground only. So I told him he will have to start small to learn the craft, as a midshipman.â€
“I did not know you were thus associated with the navy. Your son is thirteen, is he not.â€
“Aye. When Vëantur gets his ship, he will be fourteen, and old enough to take to sea. I do not know if you know, but ere I got apprenticed to the healers and eventually joined the rangers, I spent two years on a merchant-ship myself, rather as a passenger than a sailor, but I picked up a thing or two.â€
“I did not know that indeed. It must be difficult to let him go,†said Faramir thoughtfully, imagining how he would feel if any of his sons decided to venture out to sea.
Dorgil shrugged. “His mother is very reluctant. But one day they will fly the nest anyway. And if he can do something he loves so much, why should I stop him? ‘Tis not that the house is going to be completely empty with him gone. His sisters will keep it lively, I have no doubt. Do you wish for more tea, captain?â€
“Later, perhaps,†replied Faramir, taking another sip. A thought had struck him at this talk of leaving and getting out and about. “I have been thinking about Khorazîr’s words yestereve. Although I can see his point of not showing myself to the crew, I do hope you will not condemn me to this cabin for the remainder of the journey. I need some fresh air, and sunlight, and a chance to stretch my legs.â€
Dorgil nodded, shoving the plate with bread, dried fruit and a roasted fish toward Faramir. “Actually, I had a little discussion with Lord Khorazîr concerning that, but in the end he agreed that to deprive you of all you just mentioned would impair the progress of your recovery. So you may leave the cabin, but only in disguise, and accompanied by him or me or the guards. Actually, when you have finished your meal and feel well enough, we should go up. The scenery is quite fascinating. So many sea-birds. And the crew is a sight in itself.â€
+
Dorgil had not exaggerated the view. When Faramir stepped on deck, again clad as one of Khorazîr’s guards and his face hid behind a veil, a stunning scenery unfolded under in the bright sunlight. The river had broadened considerably, and was beginning to split up into several smaller arms, divided by marshy islets grown with a thick tangle of swaying reeds and rushes, and tall grasses with plumy flowers. Beyond these ever-moving fields of water-plants rose gentle hills to both sides, blue in the distance. Myriads of birds could be seen and heard all about. There were flocks of geese, gull’s were keeping up with the ship in the hope of something edible being thrown to them, there were ducks and white herons and storks and all kinds of little piping birds that hid in the reeds. High overhead in the azure sky birds of prey were circling on the wind, watching the delta that Harnen created on its way to the sea with keen eyes.
The river’s current had slackened, so that the oar-men were at work again, with Azrubâr’s tall guards keeping them at a steady pace, one beating a drum, and one walking about with a whip on his belt. The captain himself was pacing the quarterdeck talking to Khorazîr, while Khômiyi stood at the wheel, steering the ship through undeeps and dangerous shoals with a sure, steady hand. Most of the men were busy aloft, readying sails and rigging for when the Balak anDolgu would meet the more forceful waters of the open sea, the sight of which was yet obscured by the tall reed-beds ahead.
Even though they were not yet using the full force of the wind, and the ship was forced to navigate carefully through these tricky waters, nevertheless Faramir noticed that obviously when it came to his vessel the captain had had little need to boast or exaggerate. It was swift, cutting the water like a knife, her sails taut and well-rigged, with not the slightest bit of canvas flapping. Gazing about the deck, he became aware of more and more modifications the frigate had undergone, most, as Dorgil who had more knowledge about ships than Faramir himself confirmed him, to achieve more speed. The usually high forecastle had been lowered by some yards, which would mean less advantage for archers in an engagement, but would also decrease the bow’s resistance to wind. The bowsprit had been stretched, and equipped with a jib in addition to the fore staysails, and the two masts seemed to be holding more canvas than was wont on a frigate. Dorgil pointed out some other changes to his captain, most of which seemed to especially fascinate him, until Faramir quietly suggested to fetch a pen and some paper and to note down or even sketch these modifications.
“Why not, if they are sound and effective ones?†he asked when Dorgil looked positively indignant at the suggestion. “Although they may be corsairs, why not learn from them if they have innovative ideas? After all, our ships may be their next prey, so we had better be prepared to beat them with their own weapons.â€
After a short internal fight, Dorgil indeed shuffled off, after making sure that Aralas and Mezlâr were near to guard his captain. In their silent, watchful company Faramir wandered along the starboard side of the main deck toward the bow, keeping one hand to the railing to steady himself. He noticed how many of the sailors stayed their work to watch him, regarding him with curiosity. He began to wonder if Khorazîr had told the captain anything about him, which Azrubâr had forwarded to his crew. He detected no hostility, only sincere interest, and some slight bewilderment. Apparently they were not certain what to make of him. Mezlâr also earned curious glances. What Khorazîr had mentioned about his fearsome reputation was proven true by the respect the sailors displayed towards him. Some even tipped their foreheads as if saluting to a superior, and he replied with a benevolent glance as he strode before Faramir and the ranger.
Upon reaching the forecastle, Faramir sat down on a trunk, and resting his back against the railing, spent the next hours as the ship progressed through Ethir Harnen on a fairly comfortable lookout. Even though the sun was hot, his light flowing garments protected him from her rays, and the constant breeze from the west as well as the wind of their speed sufficed to cool him. Dorgil returned after a while with a water-skin and a small leather-bound book – his diary, Faramir assumed, surprised that the healer who so far had never shown any inclination of writing should be keeping one. While the ranger took to making notes about the ship and indeed sketching some of the most noticeable and intriguing features, Faramir watched the crew go about their work and listened to their various tongues and accents. He also watched the captain, and the way he dealt with his men, in order to get a clearer picture of Captain Azrubâr.
In the late afternoon, as predicted by the corsair, the Balak anDolgu finally broke free of the last straggling islets and reed-grown shoals. With the oar-men putting in a last spurt battling a heavy swell and the onslaught of the tide, and fighting their way through a thick layer of kelp and upswept seaweed that entangled their oars, they finally gained the open waters. Commands were shouted in hoarse voices, Khômiyi’s crowing most noticeable, and soon the sails were loosened, the oars were pulled in, and the ship gained speed, cutting through the white-plumed waves like a dolphin, now and again sending a shower of salty spray over the occupants of the forecastle.
“This is quite some ship,†Faramir heard Dorgil mutter before the healer got out his diary again, and stepping up to the bowsprit began to scribble again furiously, his eyes shining.
Azrubâr had her put on a larboard tack to gain some distance between the vessel and the mainland to starboard, the coast of which showed low cliffs grown with hardy plants shaped by the ever-blowing wind, and in front of these cliffs rocky, barnacle-covered islands which were being swallowed by the rising tide. They were journeying in the midst of an ever-broadening bay, the sides of which eventually swerved to the north and south, upon which the ship took on a more northerly course, keeping parallel to the coast.
Some of the sailors had been fishing in the brackish waters of the delta, and caught a number of large crabs and several rather adventurous looking fish, called blennies by the sailors, which the ship’s cook fashioned into a small feast for the corsair, his guests and choice members of the crew. This time, dinner was held on the quarterdeck as the weather was warm and the cabins to small to host all guests. Having found their sea-legs at last, all of Khorazîr’s retinue except the unfortunate Murâd who still suffered from acute seasickness and Faramir joined Azrubâr at his table. Despite the tantalising smell and the captain’s especial invitation concerning him, Faramir had decided against it, as he would not be able to eat or drink without lowering the veil. Khorazîr promised him to save him his own ration, as he cordially disliked all seafood (although he would not tell why). So Faramir had his dinner in his cabin with Murâd keeping him company, involving the young man in a conversation about horses which he was very knowledgeable about, his father being a famed horse-breeder, to take his attention of his seasickness.
+
The next day passed in a similar routine. The wind held, even swerving to the south-west, speeding them on their course. Always the coast was in view to starboard as a faint blue line, and even though several times the outlook spotted sails on the horizon or nearer the coast, not once they passed another vessel at a distance close enough to make out her kind or colours or bearings. Obviously the corsair avoided any closer encounters on purpose.
During all this time, Faramir not once had a chance to speak to the captain. When finally an opportunity presented itself, it was Azrubâr who accosted him.
Faramir had spent the time mostly on deck, now reading in Khorazîr’s book, now sketching down a concise account of what had befallen during and after that dreadful night at Kadall, supplemented with observations from Dorgil or Khorazîr or the two rangers, now looking out over the heaving bowsprit or the railings, or astern where life on the ship unfolded, on his habitual seat on the forecastle where he was out of the way of the working sailors, and yet could watch most of what was going on aboard. He also took as much exercise as Dorgil allowed, pacing the ship from bow to stern, and feeling some strength return to his body and the pain recede. As during his first visit on deck, the corsairs completely left him in peace, going even as far as disregarding him. He had mentioned this to Khorazîr, who had only smiled mysteriously.
“Yes, I told them you were not to be molested, and a few other things besides. They know you are not one of my guards – it would have been difficult to maintain that, anyway, with your injury, for who in his right mind would take a wounded guard on a journey like this. Nay, I told them you are a very special friend of mine on a secret mission to Gondor, to with the King arrange for Al-Jahmîr’s downfall. Hence the speed, and the fact you do not show your face. I have heard the most outrageous suspicions concerning your identity, although your true one was not among those. So it seems our little ploy is working well. They hold you in awe, and well for it.â€
“And Azrubâr was not offended by my repeated decline to join him at dinner?†inquired Faramir, who had become aware of the curious, yet also shrewd and calculating glances the corsair was giving him whenever he was in sight.
Khorazîr shook his head. “He is a proud man, and very blunt and straightforward. He would have told me had your behaviour offended him.â€
The sun was already westering as Faramir stood in the forecastle, watching the blue line to larboard which during the past hours had accompanied them, indicating where the island of Tolfalas lay. Only too well he recalled how, little more than a year ago, he had spent four months as the Snake’s prisoner on this island, eventually escaping and making his way along the rugged, deserted southern tip of Tolfalas to the more settled regions, only to be wounded and caught again by Al-Jahmîr’s henchmen and brought before their vile master. He had been rescued by King Elessar shortly afterwards, in the very nick of time, yet the memory was still evil. And yet, he had managed to endure whatever hardship Al-Jahmîr or the merciless island had subjected him to, because he had known that back home in Ithilien his beloved wife and his children were yearning for his return. Now he was again a pawn of the Snake’s, or so it seemed, and the queen, his queen was gone. He sighed deeply, leaning on the gunwale more heavily. Had his message reached her by now? And would she be able to receive it, anyway?
“We’ve made excellent speed,†he suddenly heard a deep voice next to him, and turning, he beheld Azrubâr leaning against the railing, watching the bow cut through the waves for a moment before shifting his gaze to Faramir. “I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that we’re going to reach Pelargir tomorrow morning, if nobody decides to try and hinder us. The tarks are very keen on protecting their shores against us evil corsairs lately.â€
“With good reason, I would reckon,†remarked Faramir calmly, aware that the other was again studying him intently.
Azrubâr laughed. “Of course. This is a fat land, with rich farmers and richer traders and merchants, and even richer lords. We only ... harvest a little of those riches. Only the foolish corsair kills his prey. Those with a little wit only take so much as to leave the trader to go about his business, so that in a few years, it’s profitable to harvest again.â€
“A sound philosophy, and yet, most traders prefer not to be raided at all. And so do the lords they are answerable to.â€
Azrubâr’s eyes narrowed. “And you’d know about what the lords prefer and what they don’t, wouldn't you?â€
Faramir shrugged. “Why do you not ask the question which has been bothering you ever since I set foot on your ship?â€
He could tell how, despite his attempt to hide his surprise, this blunt remark had startled the corsair. He again gazed at Faramir, until at length he smiled very slightly. “If you insist. Who are you? Khorazîr has not lied to me, so much I know. But he has ... twisted the truth a little in order to keep your identity a secret, am I right? Are you indeed on a mission to the Tark-King? Why should he receive you, were you a common soldier? And why should he aid you against the Snake? Unless ... I’m neither deaf nor stupid, you know, and I’ve heard a rumour or two in Umbar ...â€
“And what say these rumours?â€
“That you’d know best, I reckon. He really had the cheek to abduct your wife? Well, she is famed for her beauty in all of Harad, with hair like gold and skin like ivory. And he tried to murder you? That’s crazy, but I’ve always known he’s out of his mind, bloody upstart that he is.â€
“The official version is that he succeeded in murdering me,†said Faramir, reaching up to lower the veil so that Azrubâr could see his face, before refastening it. The corsair laughed out loud and clapped his hands.
“This is capital! And I was about to declare Khorazîr a fool when he assured me we would have a save passage up the Great River. Hah!†He spat over the railing. “That’s for you, slimy Umbarians, and for you idiots in Pelargir. We’ll show you. Ah, I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this for many, many years.â€
“Easy, captain,†cautioned Faramir, amused but also slightly alarmed by the excitement of the other. “If possible, I do not wish my identity to become known. Al-Jahmîr must not know that I am still alive, for the longer he believes me dead, the nastier his surprise when he learns the truth. So please be silent about what you have just learned. I would prefer not having to interfere once we have reached Pelargir, to indeed secure our passage upriver, but knowing the ruler there …â€
He sighed, gazing ahead to where the Ethir Anduin lay, still obscured in blue haze, and where he expected to meet the first real obstacle on his errand to King Elessar, in the person of Falastur of Pelagir.