Bucanneers of Belfalas II - TA RP

[Raisins]

"To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,
The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying."

The two sat quietly, kept in the dungeon of the Prince's Castle, it's white walls a shining beacon to those outside the grim lodgings of Eliad Belegaur and Mylien Silant, the Captain and the First Mate of the Suleramar, the ship given to Eliad by it's former captain and the father figure of Mylien. The two sat in grim silence. They had been informed on yesterdays eve that this would be the morning they paid the price of treason as the Admiral put it. What treason they had committed was truly questionable, but piracy during a time of war was looked upon with an unforgiving eye. They had managed to make sure that the blame for it had fallen squarely upon their shoulders as the Captain and First mate, sparing many of their comrades lives.


Mylien stood slowly and headed for the tiny slit of a window that afforded them a view outside barely big enough to see anything but through it the scent of salt, and the cry of gulls could be heard. "Can you feel the West breeze Captain?" She asked softly and Eliad his face grim and set turned and looked at her and then joined her standing several inches taller than her he did not have to turn his face up and stand on his toes to see out the tiny slit. His eyes unlike hers were not closed but looking out at the grey horizon.

"Aye, a beautiful day for sailing." He said softly.

"Perhaps they'll give us one last journey west." She said and smiled at the man who she had thought of as a brother most of her life, even as the door was flung open and the two were put in heavy iron shackles and marched up from the dungeon and out to a square. There they saw a gathered crowd, and a wooden platform and two nooses there hung ready for them. Neither flinched from their fate, they were proud to have saved their friends, and to have gone on the adventures that they had. They stepped up the stairs and Mylien thought she saw the flash of a familiar face in the crowd, and then as she stood waiting a guard on each side of her while the fastened the noose about Eliads neck, she saw several more faces and a small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth seeing a flash of steel beneath drawn cloak. The guards about them were too busy making sure the pirates that they had caught and gotten sentenced were not escaping to pay mind to the gathered crowd.

"Do you hear the gulls Captain? Calling us to the Sea..." She looked south to the docks, there she could see the many masts of the ships moored there, one of which was Sulermar, renamed Sulemarea by the Navy and the great war ship that had caught her the Valaturo the new flagship of the Dol Amroth Navy, and then they put the noose around her neck too, their crimes would be read and then they would fall, at least that was Admiral Vacryn's plan.

Rules
If you want a specific position on the crew please head to the OOC and request it.
If you are wanting to play a short term character or foe please talk to @Fuin Elda
1 post, or three days between for posts please.

[Tharmáras]

A Wine Cave, Grey Mountains of Harad
Months Ago

"The Corsairs harried his coast."
- Tolkien, from The Lord of the Rings: Appendix A: The Stewards

So, we'll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.
Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a roving
By the light of the moon.
- George Gordon, Lord Byron
So We'll Go No More a Roving

It wasn't a dream - no, the memory - of huge bellowing apes which jolted him from sleep but a mere sudden touch in the waking world. Taylus Mouguar fluidly removed his weapon, a blued steel dagger of Númenor, from its white Taniquelassë sheath. Opening his cobalt eyes, Taylus saw his blade was pointed at Matt Bowbrick who gasped in shock louder than was necessary.

"Don't get jittery, Taylus, it's your old buddy," Matt insisted when the relieved Gondorian relaxed, returning the dagger to the wooden case on his bejewled belt. "We got off easy, remember?" the halfling reminded him.

Eliad and Mylien made sure they were the only ones of Sulamárëa, the Blessed Wind, sentenced to death for treason to Gondor having destroyed a naval vessel of Dol Amroth. The rest of the crew were permitted to walk free. Taylus was a respectable scholar before joining the ragtag buccaneers from Belfalas and a nobleman's son to boot. His half-brother, Valcallo, was a plucky smuggler in the navy's employ, bursting through Umbarian blockades with necessary supplies to Harondor. Since he came from a good family and kept his nose clean until then, believing he had been forced to help the criminals, the Admiral released him.

Matt was an intrepid Hobbit hailing from the Green Hill Country of the Shire. An avid reader of Bilbo Baggins' There and Back Again, he decided to have his own adventure. Matt travelled to Gondor's coast and joined Eliad's search for the fabled Alessa, the fifth ship of King Elendil. Admiral Vacryn pardoned Matt since he looked too much like a child and didn't want to see a little halfling being hanged to death.

Taylus loved Mylien and Eliad, Scurvy and Matt. Sheltered bookworms didn't have many friends and they had become his closest. Taylus was determined that all the crew would live which was why he told Scurvy to stand down and wait for him to return. He took months journeying to Harondor overland without him (because he trusted his own meager cooking skills in the wild rather than the fly-ridden meals Scurvy offered), only with Matt in tow because if he had been seen with Valcollo then he wouldn't be alive to make a deal with an Umbarian slaver.

Taylus - posessing hyperthymesia and an eidetic memory - recalled Mylien having mentioned one of her Umbarian colleagues once while they shared a bottle of his father's Lebennin wine one evening while they gazed on Moon-dappled waves. Kfir, the eldest scion of the Gameela family. Taylus had recoiled at the mention of his name but did not tell her of his hatred for him, thinking she wouldn't believe his story if he told it. Mylien mentioned grimly that Kfir "owed her one" but had not elaborated. Didn't matter, really. That...was quite enough for Taylus to concoct his crazy scheme which he hoped Mylien would not hate him for. Taylus hoped she wanted to be saved if there was a shred of hope.

Taylus arranged clandestine travel toward Umbar with Valcollo's protection, keeping off the major roadways of Harad and traversing the rural countryside his half-brother both knew well since some of his errantries took him this far. He left Taylus here one of the wine caves belonging to Luinamaril, the wife of Kfir, which was public knowledge and deserted at particular times of the day. Taylus left her a blue rose of Imloth Melui on one of her barrels of aging white wine, knowing it was Luinamaril's favorite flower...and that she would realize he was here and, hopefully, come see him alone...

"Where is she?" Taylus asked and glanced away, seeing Matt frown hearing the sorrow in his friend's voice.

"On the beach."

"Alone?" said Taylus, hardening his tone. Life with the Buccaneers and the rough living he experienced in his desperate passage to Harad had transformed him from the inside out. He was no longer thin but wiry. Parted blonde hair was now unruly and collar length, luxuriant. His features weren't smooth anymore, his face angular and bearded. The softness had vanished from his eyes, replaced by an unsettling coldness. Taylus scowled more than he smiled.

"Just the girl."

"Stay here," Taylus ordered, rising up quickly. "Thank you," he said in a kinder voice moments later, knowing he had spoken too harshly.

He strode through the stony corridors of the wine cave, carrying a Fëanorian lamp of Antiquity to light his passage with the brilliant sapphire beam. He staggered to a halt outside the cavernmouth, enraptured by her beauty. She was older now, lovelier. Her black curls were blown were astir by a warm briny zephyr out of the West. Luinamaril wore a gold and indigo Harad sari embroidered with starry designs. Sparkling crystal earrings and extravagant bangles gleamed in the morning light. She stopped stroking her palfrey's mane and drew closer to him, glistening tears pooling in her tender hazel eyes. He could smell the exotic dark wood fragance of Luinamaril's oudh perfum .

He hadn't seen her, a nobleman's daughter, in years since Kfir captured Luinamaril from her father's estate in one of the Corsair's raids on Anfalas. He wasn't sure if she enjoyed being her captor's wife or not. An arranged marriage their fathers had agreed to but Kfir stole Luinamaril away weeks before their ceremony.

He dropped the lamp to pull her into an intimate embrace. She permitted Taylus to caress her back and glide his palms down her slender limbs. She allowed him to glide his fingertips through her long sable hair bound in a golden net of bright teal gems. Luinamaril gently placed her beringed hand over his mouth when he tried to kiss her full red lips. That's when he knew he lost her for good. Luinamaril took a step back and trembled, no doubt seeing the anger blazing in his eyes behind the spectacles he wore, but his ire wasn't directed toward the princess but to Kfir.

They said nothing until she was certain Taylus appeared calm and the heat of his fury no longer emanated from him. "You look different," she said awkwardly, still holding herself, aware of his strength and how he intimidating he seemed. She had known Taylus to be a dapper man and hadn't expected to him wear tooled boots with mariner's clothing, breeches and vest white with a blue double-breasted coat.

"Look who's talking," he replied quietly with a wan, sad smile.

Another lengthy pause. They stood apart gazing at each other in suppressed ardent longing, deepened by the mournful music of whales beyond the silver walls of these Grey Mountains.

"What do you want?" she asked, her sweet voice pitched low and fearful. "We cannot meet this way. I know wine so he lets me tend our vineyard and see to our storages here." She lowered her arms and spoke to him sharply, disapproving of what he'd done with the blue rose. "I am lucky to have seen it first when I did. Kfir would have beaten me like one of his slaves."

Taylus controlled his anger, loathing Kfir with a fiercer intensity for keeping thralls regardless of origin, and answered her. "I need to meet with Kfir. Arrange a meeting for me -"

"Impossible, no," she flatly responded and turned to walk away.

"It's about my friends," Taylus pleaded. "I have to help them," he confessed. "I can't without you."

Luinamaril halted abruptly and turned to address him again, asking Taylus in a kinder voice to explain.

*

Serebo Asada, the Silver Vale in Far Harad near Umbar
Hours later

"Umbar...a refuge for all the enemies of the king, and a lordship independent of his crown.

Umbar remained at war with Gondor for many lives of men, a threat to its coastlands and to all traffic on the sea."
- Tolkien, from The Lord of the Rings: Appendix A - The Stewards

"Abuse and outright cruelty had been staples at Resolute."
- John Jakes, North and South

Celmûl ran through the vast cacoa grove, sobbing. He planned to reach the water and escape the plantation by swimming to the opposite shore. The Gondorian man of Lebennin had been captured in one of Kfir's sieges years ago. Luinamaril had made Kfir a decent master compared to his crueller days before his marriage but ever since Abadeemi, an unruly slave, pushed her downstairs in the manor and she lost the baby Kfir had returned to the brute he used to be. Kfir ruled the fertile vale bounded by two tributaries of the jungle river with an iron hand now. Rebellious or lazy slaves received all sorts of cruel and unusual punishments.

Weeks ago, old Sakat was late to rise in his slavehouse for work. Kfir wouldn't free him like he did with the seniors in times past. Kfir tied Sakat to his horse and galloped all the way to the Grey Mountains, crippling him. Then he marched the aged offender up a slope and pounded nails in an empty barrel that his friend, a massive bear of a man named Uhta Halsad, took from the Gameela winecave. Uhta, laughing uproariously, hoisted the studded barrel and flung it over a cliff to let it roll downhill...without the slave due to his drunkenness so this gruesome procedure needed to be done a second time...with the thrall actually forced inside. Old Sakat's injuries left him paralyzed and useless. He had a slave suffocate him to death. Celmûl decided to take his chances in the volatile rainforest to the south than endure one moment longer in the fields of Gameela.

The white sweaty thrall, panting, risked a look over his shoulder to see if any Haradrim were pursuing him but only behld the gargantuan silver towers, the lofty pinnaclecs of the coastal Grey Mountains which gave the valley its name, soaring above the evergreen trees. He suddenly felt a sharp blow to his leg and fell. Celmûl got up seconds later and limped forward with the stream in sight, sparkling in the hot tropic sunlight, and wept bitterly when he heard the booming laughter of Mauritius who threw the hardwood boomerang at him.

The brawny black man walked his black stallion alongside Kfir's. Mauritius was the slaver's best friend and merciless overseer. He was big a Half-troll with white pupiless eyes and a red tongue.

"String him up," said serene Kfir, a man of few words, in his usual soft-spoken voice. The strong and bearded olive-skinned man with cool hazel eyes dismounted then took the bullwhip off his saddle. He fanned himself with a toquilla straw hat he took off his thick black hair as Mauritius tied the slave to boughs of the nearest cacoa tree. "Strip his shirt off," Kfir commanded, putting his hat back on and loosened the coiled bullwhip. Mauritius tore the fabric with his meaty hands, exposing the bare ivory skin of the slave's back. Celmûl started screaming before Kfir's first lash. The slaver's muscled arm moved in vigorous arcing strokes with practiced ease, never tiring. Celmûl received forty strikes of the slaver's whip before the chuckling Half-troll untied him. Kfir loomed over the slave's bleeding, lacerated back. "Run again, I just might let you swim," said Kfir, speaking fluent Common in an richly accented voice. "Let's go to the stream. I want to show you something."

He seized Celmûl's collar and dragged him to the shore. Kfir ordered Mauritius to kill a grazing rabbit in the distance with his boomerang and to retrieve it. When the dead animal was given to Kfir he tossed it lightly into the stream. It floated...for several seconds. A swarm of fish tore it to shreds. "Piranhas, vicious creatures." Kfir knelt beside the whimpering bloody slave. "There are many lethal kinds of beasts in Harad. You should see the crocodiles in the jungle river. They like to leave it, too. They move with a fightening swiftness. You can't swim fast enough from them and you can't escape a croc either. Would you like to know what lives in the other stream?" Kfir jerked his thumb back to indicate the other tributary which formed the western border of his valley. "Anacondas and reticulated pythons. One will crush you then it starts feeding; the other will simply swallow you whole. You see..." He whirled a finger. "My home, it's a death trap. You work and you die. You run and you die worse."

He rolled the slave over with his foot, making him wail when his ravaged back grazed the forest floor. "We are taking you back. A healer will tend your wounds. Upset me again and I will take you to the water's edge and chop you into little pieces." He made deft cutting motions, grunting softly. "You will still be alive, watching the piranhas devour your dismembered limbs before they'll feast on the rest of your flesh bit by bit." Kfir took his straw hat off again and wiped sweat off his brow. "Work hard and don't be stupid then no trouble will befall you. It brings me no pleasure to inflict pain. It brings Mauritius satisfaction but only grief to me. Don't give me a reason to hurt and you'll find I'm a benevolent master."

When he returned to the mansion, Luinamarel was just leaving the carriage in the stone lane by the verandah, returning from their wine cave in the Grey Mountains. He felt the heavy weight of their unborn child's murder, an ever present burden on their marriage now, drawn away . He quickened his steps, leaving his steed to be stabled by one of his enslaved ostlers, hoping to sweep his wife off her feet and kiss her soundly. He suddenly froze, watching a taciturn blonde man exiting the gilded vehicle. A white man in mariner's garb. They locked gazes.

"Who in Udûn is this?" Kfir demanded of his wife without yelling - it was not his way - when Luinamaril held him, planting a dutiful kiss on his beard.

"Aiano Marviltë, a friend of mine who needs your help."

"It's about Mylien Silant," answered the Gondorian with immediate interjection.

Kfir mumured a curse, glancing at the pavement, and heaved a heavy sigh, fearing the worst and knowing it was time to finally repay Mylien. He knew death would follow him quickly if he did not honor his oath to her. That's the way vows worked in Middle-earth, it seemed, if old legends could be believed. "Anyone who is a friend of Mylien Silant is a brother to me," Kfir assured Aiano, clapping him on the back, and steered him toward the mansion's entryway between the soaring marble pillars. "You look famished, my friend," he remarked as his wife and a small wide-eyed child shaking a palantír Daletoy followed him inside the airy foyer. "Perhaps you would enjoy some refreshment in the parlor? We are having basbousa. A coconut cake in sweet syrup flavored with a hint of lemon and a splash of orange-blossom..." He looked down at the small boy. "Is this lad your son?"

The lad rolled his brown eyes, still playing with his magical jet-black globe of crystal. It caused vivid scenes of Middle-earth locations to flash and swirl within the orb's depths. "I'm a Hobbit, Slaver Sir, and thirty-seven years old, thank you very much."

"Oh..."

Luinamaril couldn't stifle her giggle, mussing his light-brown hair, already taking a liking to him.

*

Dol Amroth, Gondor
The Night Before the Hanging

"But beyond, in the great fief of Belfalas,
dwelt Prince Imrahil in his castle of Dol Amroth by the sea."
- Tolkien, from The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King

Taylus and Kfir sat a round lebethron table waiting for Scurvy and a new Buccaneer, Morana Senensis, to enter their private room. Above the Old Town and below the Castle Quarter was an intricate complex of terraced edifices and meandering streets called the Cliffs. It was primarily a residential area for but the highest teir catered to the Prince's garrison and contained many taverns & gambling halls. It was here in one of those bars that Taylus invited the cook and doctor to join him, Matt, and Kfir. The dimly lit, smoky dive was called The Selkie, a seedy hive of scoundrels and smugglers...a stark contrast to the tender mythical (High Elves would say real) creature featured on its carved weathered signboard, a gentle Ocean Maia of Ulmo who could turn herself into a seal. When Taylus returned to Gondor, he sent messages to Morana - suggested by Valcollo who knew her smuggling parents - and Scurvy who was employed at a pub in Pelargir and had paid for their passage to Dol Amroth. He insisted they call him Aiano Marviltë until Kfir was no longer around them. If Kfir knew that Taylus was an old flame of his wife and the half-brother of a Gondorian blockade runner then he'd be dead and, perhaps, the rest of the Buccaners who might avenge him.

"Are you sure you won't be noticed here?" Taylus asked Kfir, trying his best to seem nonchalant but Kfir chuckled, seeing through the scholar's casual facade.

"I visit Gondor, even far as Dorwinion, under the guise of a free Eastern merchant. Not a servant of Sauron's regime. Besides -" he paused to knock back his shotglass of cinnamon Anfalas whisky "- this place is full of blackguards and houses secret sympathizers of Umbar though I'm sure you're pretty Prince isn't aware. No one is going to kick me out even if they knew I had Haradrim blood."

The squeaky door swung open. In stepped Matt Bowbrick. The Hobbit stepped aside, ushering in Morana and Scurvy with a grand sweep of his hand and a broad cheerful smile. Taylus introduced himself by his new alias and introduced Kfir.

"Back together, Scurvy" commented Taylus with a genuine grin. "I hope the cooking business has been prospering. I'm sure everyone enjoys your how well you season your meals with weevils and flies." Laughing he bumped knuckles with the chef then shook Morana's hand. "We'll need a good doctor," he confided in her. "Our last got killed last sailing. I hope you will call Sulamárëa home as readily as I have. Welcome to the family." Taylus took a long pull of his inky Levianthan spiced rum and felt a twinge of sadness cut through him, imagining Mylien taking a pint herself next to him. He would see her soon if they played their cards well. He brushed his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket and folded his forearms over the table.

"Morana is new here so allow me to remind everyone what this meeting is about. Eliad Belegaur, captain of a schooner called Suleramar which was its name before the navy rechristened it Sulamárëa, was given a map by his dying mentor. It showed the location of the Elessa, a lost ship of Elendil's in mariner myth. I was hired to help them find it because of my scholarly knowledge and I'm a bit of an archaeologist. During our voyage, we ran afoul of the Gondorian navy and were captured by its Admiral Vacryn. Every crew member walked free but Eliad and his First Mate, Mylien Silant, were kept imprisoned. It was my intent to mount to besiege Imrahil's castle with this Harad noble's help -" he gestured at Kfir who gravely bowed his head, hand over heart "- but I just received word from the office of Vacyrn that Eliad and Mylien are being sentenced to hang at the gallows this morning. Needless to say but I think the Admiral misdjudged where my loyalty lies..."

Kfir took a deep sip of his sweet and coppery galross, a Lossarnach bock, and spoke. "I'm a Corsair noble of Harad and an ally of Mylien who owes her a favor. I'm going to help you lot rescue Eliad and Mylien. I've brought thirty of my finest Umbarian warriors. They will fill the crowd and will be ready for the signal Taylus will give you to begin attacking the knights."

Kfir removed a rosewood box from his belt pouch and gave it to Taylus who opened it. Laying on the velvet lining inside was a crystalline orb made of the same lustrous jewel seen atop the white monument in Umbar. It was set within an oval obsidian medallion decorated with Westernesse mithril filigree. The pendant was attached to a rhodium-plated platinum chain. "It will flame in the sunlight," Kfir promised the Buccaneers of Belfalas when Taylus put the necklace on and hid the pendant in his linen shirt.

"I will stand atop the crown in the Colossus of Imrazôr, a statue in the square," Taylus informed his friends. "When you see its light shining, the battle will commence. Scurvy and Morana, you both can free Mylien then race to the docks with our former crewmates. Kfir, Matt, and I will assume control of Sulamárëa and Valaturo."

Matt spit his Linyamaril cider out. "I'M DOING WHAT?" he asked in the loudest whisper he could muster. "SERIOUSLY? WE'RE COMMANDEERING VACRYN'S FLAGSHIP?"

"My payment for services rendered," said Kfir, raising his bock in toast. "Everything carries a certain price, Matthew. I owe Mylien but not for free. Many Umbarian ships-of-the-line Thorongil's taskforce burnt over thirty years ago. We need more great vessels. I plan on bringing home one."

*

Dol Amroth, Outside Imrahil's Castle
Execution morning

Taylus stood in the cool shadows enveloping the observation hall of Imrazôr's crown. He ventured up the steps without haste. He was at peace. He had seen the woman he loved him for the last time. He was most likely going to be killed saving the crew and he was content with that. What was the old adage? "Greater love hath no man than this, that he may lay down his life for friends."

He opened wide the door and stepped out toward the railing. Below him a crowd of bystanders had gathered along with pardoned sailors of Sulamárëa and Kfir's hooded Umbarians. All of them encircled by Swan Knights, cheering the arrival of white-haired Dol Amrothian Admiral Vacryn. The broad-shouldered officer lifted his armored fist in triumph, relishing the adulation.

He looked down at Matt and nodded, feeling his golden hair tousled in a wind out of the West. Matt turned to Kfir and nodded. Then Kfir looked at Scurvy and Morana, nodding. A trumpet fanfare filled the air. Wheeling gulls cried in the azure sky. The horizon was lit with the silver flame of breaking dawn. Taylus lifted the medallion by its chain, catching the radiant gleam of the risen Sun. The jewel took the brightness of the Daystar and a pale effulgent brilliance shone from his hand....then the world went straight to Angband.

[Nessa Saelind]

Morana Senensis
Pelargir – a few weeks ago

Morana woke up in the hour before dawn and rose from the bed she shared with her younger sisters. She moved quietly around the room, her movements honed by years of practice, washing her face in the basin, changing from her nightclothes to the charcoal grey nurse uniform, combing her long, thick auburn hair and fixing it into a side braid. When she finished dressing she picked up her satchel that contained the roll with medical instruments, writing materials and a leather journal in which she copied information from various medical books and scrolls she could find in the library of Pelargir's Houses of Healing. Walking out of the room she closed the door with care so she did not disturb her sisters.

Entering the kitchen she was not surprised to find her mother there, already dressed and ready for the day ahead of her. Two bowls filled with porridge along with mugs of mint tea were placed on the table. Placing her satchel on the bench she sat down to break her fast and enjoy a rare moment of peace in the household.

“Are you in that much of a hurry to get to the Houses of Healing?” Nârin asked teasingly noticing that her daughter was eating faster than usual. Morana's cheeks flushed with colour, but her teal eyes shone with excitement.
“I'm sorry. It's just that…” Morana started, then paused for a moment, searching for the words that would help her mother understand her excitement. “The library and the study are empty in the early morning hours… And Abulcasis' Method of Medicine along with al-Nafis' Reference Book for Physicians is finally available.”

Nârin smiled seeing her daughter's excitement and nodded her head in understanding. She reached out and took her daughter's hand. Out of all her children, Morana was the one who inherited her looks, along with the talent for the healing arts. Her daughter watched and learned the craft from Nârin, just as she had watched and learned from her mother, Danica. However, she knew that Morana yearned for more, dreamed of more than being a local healer and midwife. She wanted to go to Minas Tirith's famous Houses of Healing to study and train to become a Master Healer.

When her daughter turned fourteen she decided to take the first step in achieving her dream. With the help of her friend Roderic de Argosy she managed to reach the Warden of Pelargir’s Houses of Healing and the two of them managed to cajole the old man to allow her to work there as a nurse. Neither Roderic nor Morana ever told their parents how they managed to do this, nor what exactly happened in the Warden’s office. Perhaps, the old man was impressed by the daring of the two teens, their resolve and the strength of their friendship. The Warden had certainly noted Morana’s knowledge of the healing arts, along with her ardent desire to be formally trained in the Houses of Healing. The quiet determination of Baran de Argosy’s son and heir and the willingness to go above and beyond for his friend had also made an impression.

Whatever tipped the scale in Morana’s favour was left unsaid. From that point on the uskok’s daughter was a nurse in the Houses of Healing, her smile when she walked out of the Warden’s office as bright as the sun in splendour. However, what was not said, and would never be said, and would be vehemently denied if anyone would be so rude to ask such a question, that Morana would never be allowed to start her healer’s apprenticeship in Pelargir. It was not because she was a woman, there were certainly many female healers in Gondor, nor was her social status an issue, talented people from lower classes and various backgrounds did manage to become great healers, especially if they were lucky enough to get a stipend, or if a member of the nobility sponsored them. It was simply the unlucky combination of her sex, her social status and perhaps, most importantly of all, her family background that prevented her from gaining a healer's apprenticeship.

Morana knew all of this, she also knew that her best friend was aware of all of this. The knowledge and the unfairness of it all hurt her more than she cared to admit to anyone, even Roderic. She didn’t need to, he knew and still helped, for the love of his friend. Neither of them could change the way things were, although one day they would. With great difficulty, Morana managed to make her peace with it and worked with what she had. At least she got a foot through the door, and there were other ways of learning besides having a Master Healer as your teacher. In the 6 years, she had worked at the Houses of Healing as a nurse, she tried to learn as much as she could by a combination of observing senior healers at work and reading medical texts.

Whenever possible, usually in the early morning hours when no one was there, she'd go to the library to read. At first, she struggled with the language, terminology and unfamiliar concepts, feeling frustrated and angry with herself because she couldn’t break through that wall. It took a long time, far longer than she’s liked, to admit to herself that she was not alone. That she could and should ask for help with this, so she reached out to Roderic, and with time and effort, she improved. She practised the surgical techniques she learned on fruit, oranges and grapes mostly (when she could find them), after her shift or during her lunch break. It was hard work, but she enjoyed it and was proud of the progress she managed to make.

“Then eat, and I mean eat, not inhale your porridge,” Nârin said with a smile and a shake of her head. “Then run to your physicians. And please, try not to come home late this time eh?”

Morana laughed softly at her mother's words and finished her breakfast. She got up, placed her satchel on her shoulder, kissed her mother's cheek and went off to work.

***

At the end of her shift, she relayed the necessary information to the other nurses, packed her things and went out of the Houses of Healing feeling happy with how the day went. It was one of the better days in the Houses, she reflected as she navigated the busy afternoon streets of Pelargir. She had managed to get to the Houses of Healing early enough to spend two whole hours undisturbed in the study reading, making notes, copying sections and drawings from The Method of Medicine in her journal. Most of the patients she took care of were on the mend, and the mood inside the ward was one of hope and good cheer. By the time she reached her house she was humming a sea shanty she overheard on the streets; a silly song about a drunken sailor that got stuck in her head.

She entered the house, took her boots off and left them by the door, walking barefoot to the delightfully warm kitchen. As she entered she saw her youngest sister, Dora, peeling potatoes while her mother prepared the dough for börek on the kitchen table. Her other sister, Lada, sat on the bench next to her sister-in-law, Zora. They were mending some clothes and watching over Zora's son who was asleep in the cot. She greeted them and as she went to wash her hands she noticed that her mother was looking at her with concern.

“What's wrong?” She asked turning to look at her mother as she dried her hands on a kitchen towel.
“One of Valcollo's men was here earlier,” her mother said and then seeing Morana's concerned look she rushed to reassure her that her brother was unharmed. “He had a letter for you, I left it on the bedside table.”

She arched her eyebrow in surprise at her mother's words. Messages from Valcollo via one of his men were not unusual in the Senensis household, but letters… That was new.

“When does he expect an answer?” she asked musing about this new development in their communication.
“Tomorrow,” her mother replied and Morana nodded, walking out of the kitchen without noticing the concerned looks the other women exchanged between them.

The letter was exactly where her mother said it would be. She took it from the table and went over to the window so she could read without lighting a candle. She felt the smoothness of the cream coloured paper and noticed its quality. Her name was elegantly written, the letters strong and precise. Turning the letter around she hoped to glean something from the signet, but unfortunately, the red wax was blank. However, she did notice that the paper was not scented. It didn't have to mean anything, but the thought amused her. Seeing as she could learn nothing more from the envelope itself she broke the seal and opened the letter. The same elegantly precise penmanship on high-quality paper greeted her when she pulled out the sheet of paper from the envelope.

“Somebody made an effort…” she said quietly to the empty room unsure if she should be impressed by this or not. Wishing she could show this to Roderic and ask for his opinion, but he and her younger brother Ognjen were at sea.

She started reading the letter, once again noting the skill of the writer, not only in the penmanship but in the tone of the letter and the way sentences were structured… Exact, to the point, but filled with passion… She wondered what kind of man Valcollo's half-brother Taylus was; she wasn't even aware that Valcollo had a sibling, let alone a sibling who was reaching out to her with a job offer? Opportunity? He was asking her to join the crew of the Sulamárëa as the ship's doctor. Still holding the letter in her hand she went to sit on the bed.

Everyone from Anfalas to Unbar heard the tale or a version of the tale of Sulamárëa and her crew. How they searched for some fabled treasure, the details of said treasure varied from story to story and grew in the telling, and in their treasure hunt they classed with the Gondorian navy and (by the looks of it) things did not end well for the ship's captain and his first mate. And now Taylus Mouguar wanted her help. But why her of all people?

She let out a very undignified snort as the answer to her question became obvious. She was the daughter of the late Ivo Senensis, an uskok and a smuggler who occasionally worked with Valcollo. More importantly, she was trained in the arts of healing, had no issues with treating brigands, bandits and buccaneers it would seem… And she knew how to remove an arrow from a man's body without disfiguring him; a useful skill she demonstrated when one of her father's men was wounded. Word of that spread and it was surely the reason why her name was passed along to Taylus.

She sighed leaving the letter on the bed as she got up and started pacing around the room. Taylus was careful to make no promises in his letter, but she couldn't help but be stirred by his words. She saw a window of opportunity opening up and felt a small ember of hope catching fire within her. This was her chance to test her skills, to test herself. If she played her cards right, if fate was kind to her (small chance of that, but one could hope, and hope was a dangerous thing), Taylus' job offer could lead her to earn enough so she could go live in the White City and study at the Houses of Healing… She bit her lower lip hard and clenched her hands into fists, her fingernails breaking the skin. “This is dangerous and foolish,” she closed her eyes as she chided herself, the voice in her mind sounding like Roderic’s. If she was here now he would certainly call her a fool, she most likely was one.

A knock on the door jolted her from her reverie and she opened her eyes and turned to see her mother entering the room. Nârin looked at her with concern and Morana felt guilty for making her mother worry. She unclenched her fists and walked over to the bed to pick up the letter and passed it to her mother who read it in silence with a heavy heart. When she finished she looked up at her daughter with tears in her eyes.

“Am I a terrible daughter for wanting to accept his offer?”, she somehow managed to force the words out, as guilt and sadness tightened her throat. “Especially now, with papa gone, Iliya out on a raid and Ognjen at sea...
“No,” her mother replies after a long silence and the answer somewhat surprises Morana. “I knew in my heart it would eventually come to this, you leaving to stretch your wings… Mind you, I always thought you would go to sea with Roderic and not join the buccaneers...”
“Ah,” her daughter says with a slight flush of her cheeks. “It’s not like that with us,” she finds herself explaining the bond with her friend for the umpteenth time. “You know this,” she stresses again and moves on. “Besides, how can I say no to someone who has obviously tried very hard to impress me?” Morana asked jokingly and her mother finally laughs at her daughter’s antics. “Just look at that penmanship, and the quality of the paper, the dramatic way it was delivered…” both women laughed, and for a moment they felt light-hearted.
“It's alright,” Nârin said after a while. “We will be alright.”
“Is it really?” her daughter asked and she could only shrug. It was and it wasn't; it would be, eventually.
“We'll have to alter some of your brothers' or your father's clothes,” her mother said after a moment of silence, choosing to focus on the practical matters. “Whichever would fit you better. After all, I don't suppose we have much time.”
“No, it doesn't look like it,” Morana replied with a slight smile. “And I'd better ask Zora to cut my hair to a manageable length too.”
“Yes, you should,” her mother answered and stood up. “But that can wait. Come, let's eat.”

Dol Amroth – The Selkie

The journey from Pelargir to Dol Amroth was uneventful, a thing for which Morana was simultaneously grateful and tormented. She needed the quiet time to come to terms with everything, how the choices she made would affect the people she loved. Her family, her friends. She hoped the letters she wrote to them would help them understand her decisions, that they would not harm them. She hoped and prayed they were safe and that she would not come to regret her choices. She sighed again and turned her thoughts for those she left behind to more practical matters. She needed to prepare for what was to come. As much as she could prepare with the information she had.

That included getting used to her new look; shorter hair (shoulder length, instead of waist long) and wearing her father's altered clothes. Some of it didn't fit her as well as she would wish, but it would do. She just needed to get used to this new her, and she would with time. She still felt unlike herself as she walked into The Selkie, the meeting place Taylus (Aiano Marviltë she reminded herself to call him by the alias he chose) chose for this meeting. A Hobbit named Matt greeted her and Scurvy Jones, the ship's cook, and ushered them into a private room.

Two men were seated round a lebethron table, on which finished and half-finished glasses of spirits were scattered. She felt her muscles tense, her pulse quickening, hyper-aware that she was the only woman in a room full of men, and some of them had consumed a fair share of liquor. “Breathe,” Morana reminds herself. “Be a mirror when you meet a knife; be a mirror when you meet a stone,” Roderic’s words echo in her mind as she makes herself relax, controlling her breathing as the wiry blond man, his beard the same colour as his hear, got up and introduced himself by the alias he chose and then turned to introduce Kfir Gameela.

Taylus Mouguar wasn't quite like she imagined he would look like, although to be fair she didn't have the basis to imagine what he would look like from his letter. As he shook her hand and welcomed her, Morana realised he talked exactly like she imagined he would. His comment about their need for a good doctor because of the demise of her predecessor was something she expected he would say to her, although not here and now, but she refrained from commenting and simply nodded her head.

As she took her seat at the table she was painfully aware of Kfir's gaze. She did not like the way he was looking at her; the Umbaran was too observant, she was certain he had noticed her discomfort when she walked into the room. She looked him in the eyes and wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Did he merely see a tall, slender young woman wearing man's clothes; clothes that didn't quite fit her right? A girl with a fair complexion, with freckles scattered like constellations over her cheeks and nose, thick shoulder-length auburn hair, teal eyes, way out of her depth? If this was all he saw and knew about her, and as long as her family name and the connections that went along with it were not mentioned in front of this man, or any other Umbaran, she would be safe. Or as safe as she could be considering where she was and what she was doing.

She returned her attention to Taylus as he spoke her name and started explaining why they had gathered here. Her eyebrows rose when the scholar mentioned that he first intended to besiege Lord Imrahil's castle with the Umbaran's help to save the captain and the first mate… For such a smart man, he could be incredibly unintelligent… That plan had changed, and they were to rescue Eliad and Mylien from the gallows tomorrow morning; which sounded manageable compared to storming a castle. “At least he isn't a complete fool,” she thought to herself as she watched the faces of the men in the room and waited for the other shoe to drop. There was always a cost to be borne, and she wondered what it was and who would be the one to pay for it. She did not have to wait long to find out what it was – Kfir wanted Admiral Vacyrn's ship Valaturo.

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh as Matt expressed his surprise. “Oh, you foolish, foolishly desperate man!” She thought as she opened her eyes and looked at Taylus. “You're going to get us killed, for you might not have what it takes to pay…”

Dol Amroth – Outside the Prince's castle

Despite the fact she carried her backpack over a cloak and had a hidden cutlass under, it was surprisingly easy to blend into the crowd in the square where the execution was about to take place. The guards didn't pay any special attention to her, nor did they ask questions about her attire which was simultaneously a source of worry and relief. Perhaps because, compared to Pelargir, Dol Amroth was a peaceful place, or maybe the guards were so confident in their abilities, or they just thought that nobody would be so preposterous to try to free the two condemned prisoners.

“Clearly they haven't met Taylus” she mused as she moved around trying to find a spot from where she could easily see the scholar's signal and keep an eye on everything. Moving around allowed her to discretely observe the crowd and judge the mood. It was an odd mixture of common citizens of Dol Amroth, Swan Knights, Kfir’s men who were strategically posted around the square and, from what she could gather, almost all of the pardoned crew Sulamárëa. She mused about the crowd’s quaint mood as she found her desired spot. They did not look excited to see the hanging of two leading buccaneers, but they were not opposed to the spectacle either. She wondered which way the crowd would swing (an unfortunate choice of words even in the confines of her mind) when they finally made their move to free captain Eliad and Mylien.

Morana was anxious about that part, worried about her role in it. She wasn’t a combatant, all she knew about wielding a sword could be summed up that you used the pointy end to stab someone. Strictly speaking, that wasn’t true, she knew more than that. She knew the theory of sword fighting, she recognised words made by a sword and she certainly knew how to treat them. However, her theoretical knowledge was not easily translated into practical knowledge, and she wasn’t sure if Taylus had that in mind when he assigned her a role in his wild scheme. Morana didn’t know the scholar well enough to claim she knew what was going on in his heart and mind, but if she were of a gambling sort she’d wager that the Taylus made his peace and was prepared to die today so he could save the people he cared about.

Morana was not. Oh, she admired the scholar's resolve to do everything he could, no matter how impossible it seemed, to save his friends. The drive was achingly familiar to her, and she respected him for that. However, Nârin Senensis raised no fool and Morana had no intention of dying in Dol Amroth, today or anytime soon. She felt, rather than heard the mood of the crowd shifting and she looked up to see the guards marching the Captain and the First Mate to the wooden platform where two nooses were waiting for them. She took a deep breath to focus and prepare, keeping an eye out for Taylus’ signal. As the nooses were placed around Eliad’s and Mylien’s necks, the trumpets sounded and she and the others saw the signal light and the square exploded in movement.

The Umbarans and members of the crew drew their swords and attacked the surprised Swan Knights and guards who nonetheless, thanks to their training responded quickly. People screamed and tried to get away to safety. It was absolute chaos to Morana, but she didn’t have time to think about any of it, she moved towards the wooden platform where Eliad and Mylien were. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Scurvy was following her, using his cutlass to defend both of them. They reached the platform in time to help Eliad and Mylien deal with the guards. She swiped the keys from one of them and started unlocking Mylien’s shackles.

“Taylus sends his regards ma’am,” she told the First Mate somewhat breathless. “We’re to head to the docks once you’re free.”

As the woman rubbed her wrists Morana reached under her cloak for the cutlass she managed to hide and extended it to the First Mate who was looking at her like she was an escaped lunatic from the asylum. She understood the sentiment; she did look somewhat psychotic.

“Oh! Sorry!” she exclaimed realising that she didn’t even introduce herself. “I’m Morana, the ship’s healer,” she said as she moved over to Eliad so she could unlock his shackles.

[Raisins]

"Bloody-" Mylien winced her eyes shut at the bright light, having not expected that nor did she expect the tempest that she heard breaking loose even as she tried to open her eyes once more. There were Haradrim on the hangmans platform and another woman that she had not yet met. She was certain she was not a part of the original crew however - however she quickly undid her shackles and she couldn't help but laugh at the comment 'Taylus sneds his regards ma'am'

"Of course Taylus." She said rubbing her wrists at a loss for what to do until Morana handed her a cutlass and a wicked grin lit her face as Morana introduced herself. The First Mate leapt down from the stool and smashed the pommel of the cutlass down on one of the Swan Knights that had their back turned at the edge of the platform dealing with a press of more Haradrim. "Lovely to meet you, we'll have to chat more later, once we're on a ship and we've all actually escaped the rope." After all the next time they were caught there would be no mercy on the crew, Eliad and Mylien had taken that fall once, but there was no way that they would be able to convince anyone that they demanded their crew help them escape.

Mylien hopped down into the main fray as Morana finished unlocking Eliad she did her best to honor the fact Eliad did not like killing Gondorians so Mylien was doing her best to wound, and knock unconscious as often as she could. She did steal a cutlass from one of the Gondorian Navy's mariners. "Eliad!" She called and tossed the blade up a moment later the Captain caught the blade and immediately cut the legs out from a Swan Knight, he'd live but he wouldn't be marching again ever likely.

"Alright lets go!" Came the deep voice of Eliad, having heard the plan from Morana to Mylien. The group of Gondorians and Haradrim pressed on then moving from the square in a wedge shape to pierce through the ring of Swan Knights the group tightened up and more familiar faces came into view as the Haradrim joined up with the crew, all of them heading to the sea. Matt, Taylus, Scurvy all were back and Morana a new face. A few Haradrim had fallen as the group pushed through the ring of Swan Knights and Mylien caught sight of Kfir.

"Taylus found you I take it?" She said as the headed for the docks their path for a little while free letting them run at speed their weapons still out expecting more Knights to try to stop them, as the group raced down the wide path that lead straight to the Navy Docks where the now christened Sulemarea and the rest of the Navy's ships. "What did he have to promise you for this?" She asked, after all a life for a life would have been fair, Kfir and his men had also rescued Eliad.

* * *
20 years earlier
* * *

Mylien was slipping around the Navy docks she had learned that the ships there being loaded up were a good source of food for a street rat like her, and those coming back had goods generally not a lot but some that she could trade for clothing, or shoes or a bed for the night. She was fearless as far as street rats went in Dol Amroth, her brown hair and blue eyes both as wild as she was as she slipped along the dark docks it was dusk and it was easier to slip around in the changing light. She saw a ship come in from the far side of the docks as she popped onto the deck of a ship that was getting ready to leave port on another twelve hours. She stole a bit of bread and an apple and made it off the ship unobserved despite the constant guards marching about. The Swan knights tended to follow the exact same routine and a few varied but they were easy enough to avoid.

She made her way towards the newly arrived ship there was a flurry of activity and Mylien for her part tucked the loaf of bread into the back of her baggy shirt so that unless they looked closely they wouldn't see a tiny dirty street rat with an entire loaf of bread as well as an apple. She could hear the men shouting and a celebration of some sort, they'd taken down a Haradrim Kelch so they were loaded with recovered goods and a pirate captain to hang that they had managed to capture before they'd sunk the Harad ship. She wasn't sure what came over her but she wanted to see this pirate.

She slipped on board a bit harder to do as the men were unloading and loading but she eventually found a gap and slipped up the gangplank and into the hold of the ship. She crept around like a mouse until she was down in the depths of the ship in with the brigs. It was so dark there was almost no light and she saw movement and jumped back a little frightened thinking perhaps she was too close, she'd heard Haradrim were dangerous. Then she saw his eyes. and she stayed still and quiet in the corner as they looked at each other.

"They're going to kill you." She said finally and Kfir nodded

"You're brave for a girl, I thought you were a boy at first. What is a little mouse like you doing creeping around the dark?" He asked in his thick accent

"Not sure. Do you want to die?" She asked it was a childs question not a threat at all as she caught sight of a keyring.

"No of course not." He said softly and they both crouched down as footsteps went overhead and the were silent for a moment.

"Okay follow me." She said nonchalantly. After all she saw nothing that this man had done to deserve death, she took the keys and unlocked the door as quietly as she could and then the shackles around his hands and his feet. "Come on." She crept up the stairs on all fours so her weight was more spread out, she didn't look behind her she just expected the man to follow her. The two made it up to the next deck and then another and then finally they were on the top deck and Mylien scuttled to one of the tie lines and motioned for the Harad to stay as low as he could in the shadows, until there was a break and she told him to run for the crates at the end of the dock that he would be able to get into Dol Amroth from there she'd follow on the next gap. He didn't hesitate.

She followed about ten minutes later. The Harad man was there and he looked at her with a smile.

"You are a very sneaky little mouse to get a rat out like me out of danger." He said with a soft chuckle, "But how do I get out from here?"

Mylien blinked at him as if this was an odd question. "Come on." With that she slipped out of the docks area entirely until she got to a cliff face that was difficult to climb but it could be done that would get him over the wall of the city. She pulled out the loaf of bread and looked at him. and gave it to him with a small smile and the man gave her a pat on the head.

"What's you're name little mouse?"

"Mylien."

"Kfir owes you a great debt my little mouse Mylien." With that he began to climb and Mylien slipped away.

[Raisins]

Captain Ruindil
Uinens Hair Inn

The Captain was sitting at a table away from the door nursing a warm pint of dark ale. 'Twas a sad day as far as he was concerned - Eliad and his First Mate, a young woman he'd only had the pleasure of seeing at a glance on the odd occasion- were being hung for crimes against the crown. 'May Prince Imrahil and the Steward of Gondor get kicked in the head by a horse." He muttered under his breath knowing full well there were several sailors for Gondors Navy in the Inn as well. He was amazed that the two of them had managed to get the rest of their crew off of charges it was brave of them since it was a death sentence for them.

He swirled his ale in his mug and took a chug of it. He was startled out of his sorrowful stupor when the door of the Inn crashed open and a soldier shouted that the prisoners were escaping and heading for the docks. He blinked his green eyes and watched as the pub emptied swiftly of Gondorian brown nosers and a smile burst onto his face making him look part imp part madman. Most would agree that madman was a correct lineage for him. He was on his feet his oiled leather captains jacket sliding back up his arms as he shrugged it back on his smile staying in a stead smirk. He brushed the ales head off of his red whiskers and strode out of the pub following after the soldiers for a bit.

All around him he could hear soldiers racing towards the docks, and he frowned he'd wanted to see this Eliad and Mylien escape, after all the loyalty that one must have from a crew to risk their lives getting you out of a hang mans noose? That was impressive. No. This would not do. With that he headed away from the docks and to where he could as the proper pirate Captain he was do the most damage to get the most number of soldiers away from the docks that he could. His eyes settled on the warehouses for food and arms and headed towards them with every intention of burning them down and making for his own ship which was already waiting for him they just knew he liked to say farewells to comrades in piracy with an ale in a tavern. This... This was better.

[Nessa Saelind]

Morana Senensis
Dol Amroth – From the Hanging Grounds to the Docks

Amidst the movement of fighters, their cries and the clash of weapons, Morana moved over to unlock captain Eliad’s shackles. Focused on her task of freeing the pirate captain, she wasn’t aware that some of her misgivings and worries about this daring escape showed in the slight frown on her face. Considering the circumstances, people involved and the architect of this scheme, everything was going remarkably smoothly. Still, her body was tense, in a state of high alert, for no plan survived first contact with the enemy. Taylus, while undoubtedly a very learned scholar, was not nearly as street-smart or savvy as he thought he was. For his original plan, which she thought was rather unintelligent, was altered at the last minute and the people who were supposed to work together on this operation never worked together before… There were too many unknown variables and little trust between the two crews; so many ways in which this rescue operation could go wrong...

However, to the young woman’s surprise and great relief, none of her fears regarding this scheme came to pass. As she unshackled the Captain, she hoped this was not due to dumb luck but rather due to the skill of the desperate crew of the Suleramar, the people that had nothing to lose and everything to gain if they escape the clutches of Admiral Vacryn. From what she had managed to observe the crew of the Suleramar were good fighters, and even the months spent in the dungeon of the Prince’s Castle did not diminish Mylien’s and Eliad’s skill with a blade.

The First Mate and the Captain demonstrated their prowess as soon as they held a cutlass in hand. Although they fought in self-defence and tried only to wound and knock unconscious their opponents instead of killing them, Morana flinched when she saw Eliad cutting the legs out from a Swan Knight. She did not know what to make of it, her reaction to the Captain’s move nor the care the First Mate had shown as she fought her enemies. A storm of thoughts and emotions brewed within her, but the Captain’s deep voice cut through her shock and she moved to follow everyone to the docks. As she fell in line with the others she noted how the First Mate and the Captain made sure she, the ship’s new doctor and the only non-combatant in their crew, was protected in their midst as they fought their way to the docks.

Morana knew she should feel relieved and grateful that the crew she was now part of fought only in self-defence… That they sought to incapacitate their fellow Gondorians rather than kill. A part of her was grateful, she realised, protected as she was from the fighting inside the wedge, but the image of Eliad cutting the legs out from the unnamed Knight continued to plague her. If the man was brought to a healer in time, she thought as guilt anchored inside her, he would live, but he would not walk again. To a soldier, a knight especially, losing a limb was a fate worse than death. Better to have killed him, than to incapacitate him so… She had cared for and treated patients that have lost their limbs and at one (low) point or another they have all cried for easeful Death, call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme*.

A tempest of conflicted feelings swept over her, guilt for leaving the wounded behind clashed with the logical part of her that knew she was in no position to help them, relief that the crew she was now part of was safe and unharmed… And for a fleeting moment, she thought of Roderic and wished for something impossible, before forcing herself to put all thoughts of him aside and focusing on her surroundings. They were closer to the sea, the gentle zephyr brought the raucous cries of gulls and other sea birds that mixed with the sounds of human activity in the port. Her pulse quickened as she sensed the familiar aroma of salty sea infused with spices and that distinct smell of the harbour. Halfway to their destination, a group of Kfir’s Umbarans and Haradrim merged with them, swelling their ranks.

“Taylus found you I take it?” the First Mate of the Suleramar called out to the Umbaran slaver. Morana tensed at the mention of the scholar’s true name, for he had been quite insistent that they referred to him by his alias in the slaver’s presence. There was a history between the scholar and the slaver, a history she was not privy too and by the looks of things neither were Mylien or Eliad. The auburn-haired woman looked around in concern, searching the group for the golden-haired scholar and the hobbit. Worry clouded her teal eyes when she did not spot them in their midst, so she turned her attention on the Umbaran slaver and discretely observed his reactions as the group ran to the Navy Docks where the Sulamárëa waited for them.

Whatever answers Kfir planned to give to the Fist Mate were momentarily forgotten, for when the group reached the Navy Docks they saw it was plunged into chaos. Thick black smoke rose from the navy’s central storage as flames engulfed the warehouses filled with tar, masts, oars, barrels for holding freshwater, ropes and other sailing equipment. The warning bell toiled its mourning sound, calling the mariners, Swan Knights and common citizens to come and help put down the fire before it spreads to the whole city… The ragtag group used the ensuing chaos to make their way to their destination – the Sulamárëa.

*Keats, Ode to a Nightingale

[Raisins]

Mylien

Mylien for her part caught something in Morana's demeanor change when she spoke to Kfir, what it was and why though she couldn't tell and blessedly there was no time for anyone to react to much as they clashed with Swan Knights even as they drove closer and closer to the docks.

"RIGHT ye bilge rats lets get to the ship! Double time!" She shouted, "We run up the reds if we can't do it faster!" She shouted which caused Eliad to glare at her. The reds were reserved for when they had no plan on giving any quarter. It was a death sentence to one and all if they were on a ship, in this case it would be for any that tried to stop them not necessarily that that would mean any less people would be killed, and the Umbarians seemed to like the call.

The Gondorian knights that heard it backed away letting them pass, as a shout of 'UP WITH THE REDS! UP WITH THE REDS' went through the rabble as they moved Mylien caught sight of the black bilging smoke "I s'pose this is where we part Kfir!" She said having learned that his goal with the flag ship of the Royal navy. He could have it. Mylien thought with a smirk, both Eliad and her had heard the guards talking about how slow it was to turn. Indeed i
She was big and intimidating and had some of the latest weapons upon it to combat pirates and corsairs but if their sloop could run circles about it what good were those weapons? "Get to the Sulamarea!" She shouted and they pushed on for the most part the crew that went with them were not the sort to worry about the reds as they continued most Knights they encountered were on their own or a pair, no match for the crew as they tramped on down the long docks when an explosion boomed behind them sending a spray of burning tinder into the air.

"Ulmos beard." Eliad said as the group lost momentum for the first time to look back at the explosion that did not seem to be planned...


Captain Ruindil

He let out a laugh that could scare the living into digging their own grave as he tossed a lantern into one warehouse that had very clearly posted signs about no exposed spark or flame, he knew full well what it contained most of the pitch and tar and oil to seal all the Navys ships for the next year. He noted there was another group that was also helping to sow chaos and he was living for it. His red hair pulled back behind his head tied off and his green eyes were alight with mischief as he grabbed another low burning oil lantern and extended its wick. TIME to find something else to burn.

He'd found a rather nice bundle of rope and had stopped and instead of just burning them had hoisted the darn heavy thing onto his shoulder, a good hundred pounds of rope. No need to be wasteful when his ship could use the rope and he could liberate it from the stuffy buggers an leave them wanting. He did of course then toss that lantern into the rope warehouse and start making for his ship he'd seen a few old seadogs already at work at the timber yard and warned em to stay away from the pitch house, he'd taken care of it... Well away as that lantern should be setting it to a right raging inferno right about.

Boom.

What in the bloody bowels of Ulmos seas? Ruindil nearly shat himself the boom was so loud he certaily flinched and took some meagre cover from the flying debris which landed near him. Nothing that he knew of in the pitch house could explode like that. What else had they been storing in there? Panic set in. Well not in him but in the residents of Dol Amroth and the Swan Knight as it was now more than a few warehouses ablaze.

He peaked out from the doorframe he'd hidden himself in and seeing there was no more debris flying started for his ship again. He was even nice enough to stomp out a smoldering bit of wood on his way. "Don't say I never done not'in nice fer ye Dolly." He muttered as he slipped onto the docks.

[Rillewen]

Ningaear wheeled high over the square, her sharp eyes watching the chaos unfold impartially. She searched only for her human. The falcon had news to impart, but many of the humans were hooded, and she couldn't see faces as she would like. So, until she spotted him, she would continue to wheel and circle, calling out to his listening ear so that he would give her the signal to come to his arm...

Devedir ran to meet up with his companions once the captain and first mate were freed. He heard his falcon overhead, but didn't call to her yet; he didn't want to risk her getting hurt in the fighting. She'd find him later, he knew. There was so much going on, for a moment he got lost in the crowd, but then caught a glimpse of one of his fellow pirates. Shoving his way through, the man was just in time to see one of those pesky law enforcers coming in to try a sneak attack on Dev's crewmate. Instead, the man found himself being collided into forcefully as Dev slammed into him, ruining any chances of the man's attempted sneak attack.
Dev dealt with him quickly with a quick jab to the throat with the hilt of his sword, which left the man coughing and struggling for breath on the ground. Especially after Dev followed it up with a kick to the rib area, hoping to further drive the air f rom his lungs. Any amount of time he could buy the pirates would help, after all. Having rendered that opponent useless for a while, Dev turned to rejoin his friends... right into a very solid right hook that staggered him backward a few steps...

Ôlthion couldn't believe it was happening. One moment, they were about to execute two pirates, leaders at that, and the next... utter chaos. His comrades were fighting desperately, but it seemed at least half of the crowd who had gathered to witness the hanging had turned out to be there merely to rescue the convicted criminals!
Devoted to his job as a Swan Knight, Ôlthion reacted quickly when the fighting broke out, trying his best to assess who were the foes and who were merely innocent bystanders caught in the middle. For a moment, he was busy escorting some of these out of harm's way, and that was when he heard explosions, and then the young Knight was torn. Should he return to the fight, or investigate this new trouble? Smoke and flames rose into view, and he called the alarm, "Fire on the docks! FIRE!" He yelled, rushing back toward the others. Which was more important, he wondered.. stopping the pirates, or saving the ships? "Fire on the docks!"
As he returned, trying to raise the alarm about the fire, the young man was just in time to see a pirate attacking one of his friends, a comrade he'd often trained with... anger gripped him and he launched himself to his friend's rescue. It wasn't until he got closer that he realized that he knew this man. His anger mounted to fury as he grabbed Devedir by the arm, spinning him around to meet with his fist. "You!" He yelled, giving vent to his anger as he pursued Devedir, with his sword now.

Dev swiftly ducked the blow that was aimed to take off his head, startled by this knight's vehemence toward him. He was baffled until he caught sight of his face. That stopped him in his tracks, only just blocking another attack. "Ôlthion..!" He hadn't expected to encounter his brother in law, though he ought to have considered the possibility before now.

"How dare you show your face here, Traitor! How dare you!" Ôlthion advanced on him, determined to impale, maim, or behead the man before him.
"Ôlthion, wait..!" Dev ducked and dodged, then planted a foot square against his chest and shoved him away as hard as he could.
Stumbling back, the knight glared at him. "How could you just leave them like that? Don't you know Ôlthiel would despise you for it?!"
Dev's eyes flickered anger back at him, struggling not to lose his cool. "You couldn't possibly understand... Don't you dare-"
"Dare what?! You had a duty to raise your sons, but instead you abandon them, to let my mother raise them! How could you do that? You haven't even seen the younger since the day he was born! Do you even know his name?"
"I'm not about to discuss the past with you, now either stand aside, or I'll-"
Ôlthion lunged before Dev could finish his sentence, aiming to impale the pirate, but the latter dodged and tried to slash along his side. Thankfully, his armor protected him. He swung a left punch at him, but missed as Dev was just a little faster, being unburdoned by armor like Olthion was. He pursued Dev as the latter tried to get away, hoping to get lost in the crowd. "Coward! You're nothing but scum! I always knew you were no good. Moving quickly in front of him to cut off Dev's exit, the knight narrowed his eyes, glaring daggers at Dev. "I never wanted her to marry you, and now I see how right I was in opposing that marriage."
I'm warning you Ôlthion, I don't want to kill you..."
"Well I certainly want to kill you," The other retorted, launching a flurry of blows at the pirate he hated so much. The duel went on for a few moments, each having forgotten their respective goals for the moment, along with everything else. Both fueled by their anger, their private battle unfolded in the midst of the larger one.
True to his words, Dev refrained from trying any killing blows. Olthion looked too much like his sister, the woman Dev had loved, and he could not bring himself to slay Olthiel's twin. Instead, Dev focused more on defending himself for the moment, though it was no easy task. Olthion was not a Swan Knight for no reason; he was very skilled with a blade.
"If she hadn't, married you," Olthion spoke as they broke apart for a moment, both catching their breath, "perhaps my sister would still be alive."
That was too much. Dev's temper snapped. Enraged, he aimed a savage blow toward the other man, which was deflected rapidly. "I loved her more than anything! Don't you dare accuse me of her death!"
"I do accuse you!" He lunged again for Dev, who dodged, barely avoiding the attack.
"I told you, I'd rather not kill you," Dev told him angrily, struggling to regain his composure. He knew he needed to get away from here, lest he be apprehended by the many other knights fighting not far away. Grabbing a handful of dust, the pirate flung it toward the Knight's face before making a break toward the ship, his means of escape. He was angry, but he still felt reluctant to kill Olthion, regardless of the other's attempt to do the same to him.

Olthion hadn't expected that underhanded move, though he knew he should have. One hand barely blocked the dust from getting in his eyes completely, though he was still blinded for a few seconds. He rubbbed hastily at his eyes, trying to cleear his sight. Then, seeing, through a blur, that his adversary was getting away, he hastened to give chase. "I'm not letting you get away this time Devedir!" He yelled, chasing after his brother in law, as if he might somehow avenge his sister if he succeeded in slaying the man she'd married...and so he pursued him with a determination that could only be stopped by death.

[Nessa Saelind]

Kleon Ashford, Quartermaster of the Suleramar
Dol Amroth, several months ago

Denn nur Eisen kann uns retten,
Und erlösen kann nur Blut,
Von der Sünde schweren Ketten,
Von des Bösen Uebermuth.
Max von Schenkendorf, „Das eiserne Kreuz“

Kleon Ashford, dressed in an off-grey tattered shirt and patched midnight blue trousers, stood with Captain Eliad, Mylien, the First Mate, and the crew of the Suleramar in the Admiralty court and waited for the verdict to be read. Their hands and feet were shackled with heavy chains and, by Admiral Vacryn’s order, shackles were placed around their necks and chains were wrapped around their waists connecting one person to another. This was done to restrict their movements and prevent any possibility of escape. A barely perceptible smirk showed on Ashford’s face as he watched the dignitaries that gathered in the Admiralty court. The heavy chains, the amount of Swan Knights in the courtroom… All this pomp because the Princes of the House of Dol Amroth, Adrahil, the second of his name, and his son and heir, Imrahil decided to grace the Admiralty court with their presence. Naturally, Suleramar’s elderly quartermaster thought as he observed the gathered nobility, that white-haired pompous hog, Admiral Vacryn wanted to show off to their lordships.

Despite the discomfort he felt, the harsh metal biting into his flesh and chafing, the quartermaster couldn’t help but be amused by this scene. You could tell a lot about a place by how they treat their people. He knew that the Machinery of Justice will not serve them here. It was slow and cold and it was theirs. However, the crew of the Suleramar were being taken seriously, being considered dangerous. That marked all the difference, the only difference in those high nobles’ eyes, between the players and the little people. For the High Lords will make deals with the players, the little people… Little people they liquidate. A game was played here, Ashford had lived long enough to recognise the signs, they were part of someone’s agenda. And in any agenda, there was a cost to be borne. The question was how high would it be?

He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. The burn scar on the right side of his face became more prominent with the movement. He looked around the room, trying to check on his crew members. The shackle around his neck made things difficult, but the quartermaster ignored the discomfort and looked at the crew, the people who elected him as quartermaster. He was supposed to look out for them, even that noble scholar and the wee hobbit lad. They were good people, putting on brave faces, but he could see the fear of Jack Ketch in their eyes. There was a cost to be borne in this game, a pound of flesh they were going to pay.

A change in the atmosphere, a hint of movement, flutter of night-black robes in the corner of his eyes, made Ashford turn his gaze back to the judge’s bench. The quartermaster’s face became deceptively still, like lake water, as the judge read the verdict. Taylus Mouguar, a nobleman’s son, was pardoned, as was Matt Bowbrick. Ashford's lips twitched, a hint of a sardonic smile, for this, was expected. The scholar was a noble and the nobility played their own great games by their own rules. And the wee hobbit looked too much like a child for even Admiral Vacryn to kill. It would seem that the old bilge rat had a semblance of conscience after all. But then the judge read the rest of the verdict and Ashford's face turned to stone.

The Admiralty Court issued a pardon to the crew of the Suleramar, but Eliad and Mylien, as the senior officers, were condemned to death. Ashford’s face remained unchanged as the clamour rose in the courtroom. Now, this was an unexpected move. His brow furrowed as he observed the faces of the powers that be, seeking clues and looking for the strings behind this. Whose hand, or better whose hands, he thought as he watched the powers that be, had manoeuvred the events to this point. The noise in the courtroom increased and while the judge and the knights were trying to establish order Ashford clenched his fists and slowly turned his head to the Captain and the First Mate.

“I will take care of the crew,” he promises Eliad and Mylien, his voice low but firm. “And by blood and by iron, I will find a way to get you out. I swear it.”

~*~

The crew of the Suleramar leaves the Admiralty court with their pardons, as free men and women; but there is no merriment as they take their leave. An undercurrent of anger and resentment flows through them and over them, ready to explode into violence at a moment’s notice. The quartermaster takes care to rein in their rage, for he has learned the bitter lesson that violence is indiscriminate. If you use it as a tool, it will do more than just kill your enemies. Sometimes it will hurt and kill the ones you love most. A few glances, a heavy hand on someone’s shoulder, a word whispered. He keeps the peace. For now.

The scholar spoke to the crew, asking them to stand down, that he has a plan to get Eliad and Mylien free. It does not sit well with the crew, but Ashford steps in before they can show the scholar exactly what they think of his idea. The quartermaster is calm, far calmer now in his fifties than when he was a quarter of a century ago when the fires of his youth burned hot within him. Age changed him in ways he didn’t expect. Ashford’s face once again becomes deceptively still as listens to the scholar and nods as the noble finishes. He lets the Belfalas noble go on his way, assuring him that the crew will be taken care of. He keeps his thoughts about the scholar’s plans to himself, not allowing any hint to show on his face.

Ashford then turns to the crew and gives his orders; he is still their quartermaster, and with the Captain and the First Mate in prison, it falls to him to look out for the crew. He warns them to be careful, for they will certainly be watched for the duration. They will meet soon, in their usual place and forge a plan to aid the Eliad and Mylien. Ayes and nods are given and as the crew slowly leaves the Admiralty court Ashford moves slowly to the side and leans on the wall. A frown mares his face as he watches the crew disperse and the people heading in and out of the building.

“Geçmiş olsun, kardeş, (Get well soon/may it pass)” the phrase from the city of his birth, spoken quietly in a husky voice, made Ashford turn his head toward the speaker. The person in front of him was wrapped in beggar’s rags, but Ashford knows that under the torn, ragged tunic of coarse hemp is no beggar, but a Company man.
“Sağ ol (Thanks),” he thanks the man who had just called him brother. A piece of the puzzle falls into place, revealing a player in the great game. A knife in the darkness. “What does the Company want with the Suleramar?” he asks knowing that he might not get an answer to his question.
The man dressed in beggar’s rags chuckled. “The Grande Dame did not want to lose a valuable asset,” the messenger says stressing the last words. “So she added her voice to others,” he tells the quartermaster and somewhere from the folds of his beggar’s robes he pulls out a folded piece of paper. “Kolay gelsin (Good luck),” he says as he discretely hands the note to Ashford. The messenger nods and greeting and leaves unhurriedly as the quartermaster watches him blending into the crowd.

Making sure that the folded note was securely hidden, he waits a few moments before he leaves the steps of the Admiralty Court. He merged into the crowd and weaved his way around town, twisting and turning, doubling back to make sure he wasn’t followed. The sun was low when he felt sure that nobody was following him, so he carefully walked to his destination. Once there, he locked the door, and in the fading of the sun, he took out the piece of paper and unfolded it. It was a list. Ashford smiled in the coming darkness.

Dol Amroth Navy Docks, Present day

On the eve of Eliad and Mylien’s planned execution, as the hobbit brought the newest ship’s physician and the cook to The Selkie to meet the scholar and the Umbaran slaver, Kleon Ashford made his final preparations. He had divided the crew into groups and gave them their instructions. On the morrow they would see the fruits of their labour; the result of weeks of meticulous scouting and intel gathering. Careful planning and adjusting as he reached out to the names on the list he was given and new elements were added. And now, another one – one he is not thrilled to have to include in his plan. The Umbaran slaver. The quartermaster doesn’t trust the Gamela scion, he’s the skeletal grip of a corpse’s hand round eggs trying to hatch. The scholar was a fool for reaching out to that excrement from the bottom of Ossë’s chamber pot. But, sometimes it takes a few monsters to get back on track.

The following morning Ashford and a few of the most trusted crew members arrived at the Navy Docks for the start of their work shift. As was their custom, the group greeted the foreman with the calls of “Bosmang,” and received nods in return. There was nothing unusual in their movements or their behaviour. Nothing that would make them stand out among the other workers, or hint at what they were about to do here today. And what they’re are about to do today is a simple diversion.

Ashford's plan is simple, consisting of small diversions and it can be summed with the maxim divide et impera. The quartermaster’s goal isn’t the fight Dol Amroth’s forces, the Swan Knights and the Navy, but to divert their attention and divide the forces into smaller, more manageable units. So when the confrontation inevitably happens, and it would happen for no plan is perfect and no plan survives first contact with the enemy, the crew would deal with smaller numbers of Dol Amroth’s forces. Keeping those goals in mind the quartermaster chose the areas they would target. Among the most important of those targets was the block of warehouses owned by Dol Amroth’s navy.

To this day, the Gondorian Navy followed the traditions and protocols established by the Númenórëan Navy. Every vessel in the Gondorian Navy needed to be equipped, and the Navy’s Central Supply kept all the necessary equipment in storehouses on the navy docks. A ship on its own is not of much use; you need ropes, sails, masts, oars, all manner of stores; most importantly barrels. Those that hold freshwater are especially important. For a ship without water barrels cannot go out of sight of land, because they need to refill once a day, twice in hot weather. However, if every single vessel in the fleet were to have its own separate set of gear it would have cost the navy a fortune each year. So the need-to-use stockholding protocol was established. Most of the time only half of the fleet was active at sea at any given time, and so the naval yards made sure that everything was interchangeable (ship to ship) to cut cost and save storage space.

The Gondorian Navy had two large Central Supply Warehouses, where the aforementioned naval gear, and many other things, was kept in store. One was in Pelargir and the other in Dol Amroth. Ashford knew this, he also knew that MilSpec rope is heavily tarred. And from the information, he managed to gather from the Company’s man and other sources he knew the Navy kept Medlach in one of the warehouses on the docks. All they needed to do was strike a match at the opportune moment.

The moment the quartermaster and his people waited for came with the toiling of the city bells. The workers at the Navy Docks paused in their work and looked around to see the source of the alarm. Ashford used this moment to signal his people to get ready to move. Two things happened simultaneously: from the opposite direction of the Navy Docks black smoke rose high in the air and mixed with the cries of “The Pirates have escaped!” Ashford suppressed a smile; the first part of the plan went without a hitch. With the zephyr blowing the flames would spread from one thatched shed to a load of others and from there to the main stable blocks and coach-houses, where most of the carts would be. And if the winds were fair the fire might even roar through the barracks of the Swan Knights. A man could hope; a man could pray.

The quartermaster and his crew used the distraction to move swiftly and silently to their predesignated locations. As soon as they were in place, they took out the matchboxes and small bottles filled with a mixture of alcohol and other flammable substances they hid beforehand. Ashford quickly spilt the liquid around as large of a surface area he safely could, then lit a match and threw it in the spreading liquid. It caught fire, and for a few heartbeats, Ashford was mesmerised by the dancing flames. The corners of his lips quirked into a smile before he turned and left. He didn’t want to be there when the fire eventually reached the warehouse that contained Medlach.

[Raisins]

Mylien

Mylien looked at the explosion that had just happened most of the crew had stopped on the dock and stood staring their mouth agape with shock. Perhaps even a bit of horror at the absolute destruction of the storage warehouses of the docks, of course once she realized it was the Navy stores she let out a barking laugh. "Good on ye." She let out a whoop realizing that perhaps that was where the rest of the crew was doing.

She grabbed Eliads arm and pulled him along. "Don't have time ta gawk at the fireworks let's get to the ship." She said and the momentum that group that had fled from the hanging square was regained as they pressed forwards, Kfir and his umbarians and haradrim broke away from their group and headed for the flag ship of the Dol Amroth Navy leaving the smaller group of pirates of the Sulemar on their own as they pressed forwards until they were at its gangplank Mylien leading the way, Eliad covering their rear so that no one could follow them on board.

"Let's get this ship ready to go and underway!" Mylien shouted "AND get these Navy bilge rats off our SHIP!" The few extra pirates cheered at that and several younger Navy sailors were staring at the group that had rushed onto the ship leaving them no way to escape a few looked like they were ready to fight but others put their hands up in surrender hoping very much that these pirates would spare them and their young lives. She had no doubt that the fact she was no longer ordering the reds was a relief to some of the Sulemar crew as well as the Navy men that were on the newly christened Sulemarea. The ones that surrendered that were on the top deck were allowed to run down the dock though Mylien to make sure they stayed off slapped the slowest one with the broad side of her cutlass leaving a bruise to both his back and likely his ego.

"Find the rest of em!" She called as Eliad shoved the young sailors down the dock before joining the crew on the top main deck. He looked up at the sails stowed in the masts and there was a look of reverence as his hand touched the main mast happy to let his First Mate call the shots for a moment before he headed up towards the helm. He stopped and opened the door to the Captains Cabin making sure no one was in there with narrowed eyes before ascending the stairs to his post. His fingers gliding over the helm wheel with a reverence for the ship that had kept them safe and would do so again.

"CHECK THE BALLAST AND STORES!!" Came his bellowing voice and Mylien couldn't help but smile hearing the Captains bark coming back. "CLEAR THE BILGE RATS AND MAN THE SAILS!"

"AYE Captain!" Shouted Mylien and several other members of the crew, hopefully the rest would be along soon so they could cut the mooring lines and clear the harbour even as the black smoke and flames licked towards the sky.


The men on the flag ship Valaturo would likely would not be as lucky as Kfir and his crew rolled towards that massive ship.

[Raisins]

Prince Adrahil and his personal guards

Light filtered softly through the filigreed windows casting intricate shadows on the indigo and purple silks that fluttered gently in the sea breeze let into the room by the slightly open window that helped keep the room cool.

Several sticks of incense sat up right in a bronze brazier wafting rich and heady smoke throughout the room on the bed side table and the bed was rich and freshly stuffed with down fit for a king, and bedecked with lush pillows in rich fabrics from the east in the colours of royalty. Somewhere in the building music was playing Adrahil wasn't sure the song but it did well to dull the cry of gulls outside.

The Prince of Dol Amroth smiled seeing his friend and informant so unlike him. Where Adrahil was now faded and shrunken from age and care and wear over the last 93 years of his life, his hair once dark and akin to his companions, was now grey and held tied back neatly. His skin once bronzed by the sun over strong muscles now was showing it's wear, with wrinkles and liver spots that were slowly beginning to show themselves, the muscles once able to wield sword and shield and draw the sail lines of the great Navy ships that he once rode the sea on were faded memories. The man who sat draped in little more than a gossamer robe that let the filtered light play on his chiseled form. The young mans dark olive skin was perfect, unmarred by scars or tattoos or brands rare for someone like him though he did have piercings which enhanced the mans features. His hair was shorn near his head a shadow to match his dark eyes teased Adrahils memories as if by being in this young mans presence perhaps he could have a few more years of youth in his old bones.

"Are you going to sit?" His voice was honey poured over sandalwood and cedar and was so rich that Adrahil couldn't help but move to the table his fingers sliding over the smooth and well laquered mahogany of the table and sit where he could observer his companions face.

A smile full and soft played on his lips as he watched the Prince for a moment observing him as he ran his tongue over his lips and reached for the tea pot made of ceramics and gold to pour out a drink for the old prince and slid it towards him tipping his head back slightly exposing his neck as he smiled at Adrahil. "Drink your tea old man."

Adrahil gave a laugh and sipped at the tea while his companion stood with such grace and walked to him and traced the side of his face as he sat himself in front of the Prince.

"You know I am here more to talk than to play today friend."

The young man smirked at this and clicked his tongue shaking his finger slightly. "I make the rules in this room old man, you are no prince here." With that he leaned in and kissed Adrahil on the lips his eyes flashing playfully before standing and walking away towards the bed this brought a groan from the prince who finished the tea in one swift mouthful his mouth burning slightly from the heat of the water, and he could feel a rush going through him. He stood slowly carefully and headed after his companion who had positioned himself sitting leaning in the middle of the bed against the decorative headboard. Adrahil for his part undid his shirt and sat on the bed.

"I know the company had a hand in the trial. Do you know why?" Adrahil asked, he couldn't see the young man roll his eyes but he could feel him moving on the bed behind him draping his arms around his shoulders.

"Old man, when have I ever left you wanting in any form?"

"No." Adrahil admitted softly turning to look over his shoulder.

"Then trust me."

***

Outside the room the Princes Guards stood watching the comings and goings of servants in the hallways carrying pitchers of water or buckets of hot water for baths. They had gotten use to these trips that the Prince said were for information and he did seem to get some information from these visits, but something today seemed off. There had been far more Haradrim in the city today, and there was the execution of the pirates.

They had no place telling the Prince that they thought this was ill planned and their guts told them that something was going to happen as they shifted their weight waiting as patiently as they could for their Prince. They couldn't interupt him he had made that exceptionally clear and for a long while everything seemed normal where they were on the top floor. There were no windows open to them , or perhaps they would have heard the noise earlier. The cries for help and that the pirates were escaping. Instead the found the Lady of the House coming towards them and slipping into another room in a rush. They glanced at each other, knowing full well that she normally did not come upstairs while the Prince was with his companion.

She left the door open and it was then that the Knights caught the faint calls of the soldiers in the streets and the guards looked at each other, one decided it was time to go and investigate the door was left open so clearly there was no one else in the room and one guard would do for now they hoped and they needed to know what was going on.

The knight followed and from the vantage point he could see smoke rising from the storehouses of the Navy docks and returned quickly. This was something that they could interrupt the Prince for but they were nervous about doing it for they could hear what was happening behind the closed door - finally they knocked on the door and they could hear a groan before they entered. "My Lord... the Navy Docks are on fire and it's getting near..."

"The Medlach stores... What about the new black powder stores?"

"Gone sir they exploded a few minutes ago."

The Princes face paled "We've only a few minutes." and he was on his feet his companion sprawled in the bed angry at the interruption even as the Prince rushed elderly fingers fumbling to get dressed fully once more so he could take charge of this crisis in the docks. In his haste he pulled his boots on his pants done up and his shirt half tucked in his tunic forgoten as was his cloak. There were more important things than the secret affairs of an old man for the moment as he rushed to the street his guards right behind him paying the Madame and carrying his forgotten goods.

GM UPDATE

Pirates are welcome to continue clearing the deck of the Sulemarea, or take part in creating utter chaos in Dol Amroth.
I am hoping to have us sailing in two weeks time so if you want to get any last minute posts in in Dol Amroth now is the time to do them!

[Rillewen]

Ningaear circled again, calling, her sharp eyes missing very little that went on below. The explosions, flames bursting out of the human structures, people running around amid the chaos. Among it all, she heard her master's voice. He was in trouble. The hawk let out a piercing cry as she swerved, then spotted him among those below. He was under attack. The hawk had been trained for hunting and a few other simple tasks, but she had become attached to her human, and no one would harm him while she had anything to do about it.

Swooping down rapidly, the bird of prey was aimed to land not on her master's arm, but at the man who was pursuing him with intent to do harm. With another shrill cry, she flew at his face, scratching and pecking ferociously, determined to prevent him from harming her master.

Ôlthion, Swan Knight of Dol Amroth

The fury with which he pursued his brother in law suddenly changed to startled horror as a creature flew at his face, attacking with a vengeance. Still half-blinded by the dust in his eyes, the man let out a yell at this unexpected attack, frantically trying to protect himself. He felt the sharp beak tearing at his flesh, the talons raking across his skin as the feathered beast did its best to destroy his face. The knight could hold his own against any man with a sword, but a bird? He'd never dreamed of such a thing happening, never imagined he would ever have to deal with such a frightful foe. Dropping his sword, his hands clawed at the creature. It felt like a dozen birds were ravaging his face all at once as the hawk attacked him furiously. Crying out in terror at this nightmare which he couldn't fight against, Ôlthion frantically scrambled backward, trying to get away, to flee somehow. His boot hit something solid, and he fell crashing down backward, the hawk still intent on her attack.

Devedir

The hawk's cry was ignored on the first; he still didn't want her to come to him yet. It was too dangerous right now. He'd call to her once he got back on the ship, and not before. She would just have to learn to be patient! Right now he had more important matters to deal with.

Then, behind him, he heard Ôlthion's cry, and more shrieking from the hawk. Whirling in mid-stride, Devedir's eyes widened in shock and, even a little bit of horror, as he saw what Ningaear was doing to Ôlthion. He was so stunned, he didn't know how to react for a few seconds, as she continued to savagely attack the man. "Ningaear! Come!" He yelled sharply, after a few moments' pause. He'd never seen her behave so violently, not even with her prey! He was further surprised when she ignored his command, watching in shock as she ferociously attacked the knight, who, unfortunately for him, did not have his helm on.

As Ôlthion tripped backward, Devedir opened his mouth to call a warning, but it was too late. The man fell backward, right onto his own blade which had, when he dropped it, somehow landed in such a way that the handle was caught with the point angled upward. Devedir cringed, hardly noticing as Ningaear now landed lightly on his shoulder, a smear of blood staining her beak from her attack on the swan knight who now lay dead before them. Devedir slowly exhaled a breath he'd been holding without realizing it. He truly had not wanted Ôlthion to die, least of all like that. Shaking his head, he remembered that he needed to get back to the ship, and turned away without a word. With his faithful hawk perched securely on his shoulder, the pirate hastened back toward the ship to join the others, with little opposition now, leaving his brother in law impaled through the back on his own sword, his face clawed and bleeding.