Hunt for the Palantíri RPG

[piosenniel]

PROLOGUE

--- Regin Hardhammer

~*~

Who knows where the lost Stones of Arnor and Gondor now lie, buried, or drowned deep?

--- Gandalf, from The Two Towers


The palantiri, or Seeing Stones, were fashioned by the Noldor, probably by Feanor. The Elves presented seven of these to Amandil as leader of the Faithful in the Second Age. The palantíri were crystal globes of power, black in color, that a person of strong will could use to communicate thoughts with someone using a similar stone or to see things from anywhere in the past or present. In the hands of a good ruler, the Stones were important tools for communication, but they were also capable of abuse. The evil ruler with a strong will could use the Stones for spying and domination. Sauron, for instance, projected images of despair in the Anor-stone to manipulate and destroy Denethor’s mind. There is even some indication that using the Stones, like the Ring itself, could be addictive to its owner, especially if misused.

Amandil’s son Elendil brought seven of the Stones with him when he sailed to Middle-earth after the fall of Numenor. These were eventually given to the Kings of Gondor and the North for safekeeping. A verse from The Two Towers describes the faithful fleeing Numenor bringing the Stones with them as they sailed across the sea:

Tall ships and tall kings,
Three times three,
What brought they from the foundered land
Over the flowing sea?
Seven stars and seven stones
And one white tree.

This tale will focus on the Stones of Amon Sûl and Annúminas, the most important palantíri belonging to the Kings in the North. The Stone of Annúminas was the smaller of the two, measuring about twelve inches across. It was used by the Northern Kings for day-to-day communication, and had a range of about 500 miles. Even more powerful was the Stone of Amon Sûl. This was so large that it took more than one man to lift and could work over very long distances. In the winter of 1974 T.A., after years of unrest in Arnor, the Witch King defeated King Arvedui. The King and his men escaped with both Stones to the northern foothills of the Blue Mountains and hid in a deserted dwarf-mine. Hunger and cold drove them to seek help from the Lossoth, also called the Snowmen.

The Lossoth were a remnant of an ancient people called the Forodwaith dwelling along the Ice Bay of Forochel. Their culture was well adapted to their snowy/icy environment – they constructed houses out of snow (possibly similar in principle to igloos), and traveled on sleds and bone skates. Despite the Snowmen's fear of the Witch King, and the general unfriendliness of the tribe, they took pity on the strangers and helped them survive.

When the Elf Cirdan heard about the King, he sent a rescue ship. This ship arrived in the Ice Bay of Forochel in March 1975 T.A., when thick sheets of ice still covered the shore extending out into the water. Despite the Lossoth's warnings and the treacherous conditions, Arvedui insisted on trying to reach this Elven ship. He managed to do this with help from the Lossoth but, once aboard, a great storm arose that drove the Elven vessel back towards the shore onto the ice. The ice crushed the hull and the ship sank, killing all aboard and taking with it the precious palantíri that the King had brought with him. (LotR, Appendix A, iii)

By the end of the War of the Rings, just two known Stones remained in Middle-earth. The Orthanc-stone, once controlled by Saruman, was the one King Elessar normally used. The second, the Anor-stone, was virtually unusable since it still bore the imprint of Denethor’s hands and crazed mind when he threw himself on the fire.

It’s interesting to think about what happened to these lost palantiri of the North. Did they remain undiscovered at the bottom of the Ice Bay, or did someone try to find them? The Palantiri were objects of immense power and would be prime targets for anyone seeking to seize political authority by sinister means. Fortunately, most people did not know about the Stones at the beginning of the Fourth Age. However, this tale will explore a Corsair sea captain’s quest to find the Palantiri both for his master and to avenge the death of his father.

[piosenniel]

Piosenniel’s post

‘My clan should have finished their Late Season Hunt by now,’ said Bear, his breath trailing in an icy fog behind him as he spoke. He rode the runners of the ice sled as the team of six dogs raced over the ice toward home. ‘We should be there soon. And by the way, we’ll pass by the northern rim of the Ice Bay. You’ll be able to see how thick the ice has grown while we’ve been away.’

Rôg spared a frozen grin back at his guide, and would have given him the universal gesture of a thumbs-up, save that his hands were encased in thick leather gloves and buried beneath the heavy fur hide covering him from toes to chin that blocked the cold from his body. Never mind that he already wore breeches and a hooded tunic lined with soft, warm fur – he was still cold, a disadvantage from having lived the majority of his life in the desert areas of the South lands and the far north east.

This had proved a most interesting trip for him. He’d seen birds and animals he’d not seen before in his travels. His notebooks were filled with description and drawings of all he came upon. The people here, too, he found fascinating – they seem to have adapted so well to this inhospitable climate. Rôg chuckled to himself at the thought that they would suffer just as much in the heat of his homeland.

They traveled on a good deal further over the white land with patches of frosted, peaty tundra just barely showing through. Bear called out to the dogs as he pulled on the reins, turning them toward the northern rim of the bay. They stopped near the edge and the two men proceeded on foot to look out across the freezing waters. Much of the bay was already beginning to freeze over, especially the shallower areas along the edges. Rôg could almost hear the ice groan as it reached out further to take hold of the deeper waters.

Rôg put his mittened hand to his brow, shading his eyes has he looked toward the far end of the bay. He squinted hard against the glare at some small, indistinct shapes he could see floating in the freer areas near the bay’s opening. ‘I didn’t know your people had sailing ships,’ he said, drawing Bear’s attention away from the dogs which had been given a small snack for their efforts.

Bear’s brow furrowed at the comment. ‘We don’t,’ he returned, drawing up alongside Rôg. His hand went in to the large pouch that hung from his shoulder and fetched out his long-seeing tube he’d gotten in a trade from one of the other clans. Steadying his arm he peered through the tube, describing as he focused it, the ships that were in the bay. Now it was Rôg’s turn to frown, and he took the tube from his companion to look for himself . . . hoping against hope, that it was not what he expected.

‘Scurvy sea-rats!’ he muttered, a term picked up on his few voyages by ship to Umbar.

‘You know these ships?’ Bear asked, not understanding the words of the imprecation but the feelings behind it. ‘Not so good, eh?’ he prompted Rôg.

‘Not good at all, my friend. They’re Corsairs . . .’

~*~

A few hours later found them at Bear’s clan encampment. News of the far southern men in ships had spread to the enclaves of Icemen about the Bay and Rôg gleaned what he could from the bits and pieces of gossip. They had been in the bay for a number of months now, seeking some sort of treasure, he heard. No, not from the sunken ships another answered to his question of what kind. ‘Old, old treasure,’ said one of the ancient elders in a thin reedy voice. ‘Those men from the old tales who sought our help. They had the great round stone, and the lesser,’ he said, recalling the old story they had all heard. ‘They were lost in the waters of the bay, it was told. Held by the ice for all these years from the Shadow and the Light.’ Those standing near the old man nodded their heads remembering the story. Other Lossoth from clans nearer the place where the Corsairs were seeking had been offered payment for their aid in helping to find the treasure, so Bear’s clansmen had heard. Not all the Lossoth thought it a fortunate venture – there was something about the men in the ships that raised the hackles of warning that they might prove untrustworthy in their promises. A number of the Lossoth who had agreed to aid the Corsairs were those ‘troublemakers’ within the various clans who had sought to challenge the present chieftains for clan leadership. It was said that the Corsairs were helping these malcontents with a promise of weapons to use in their fight for the right to be ruler.

Rôg listened silently as Bear and the others discussed the Treasure-seekers. He had no idea what they were seeking, but he knew that whatever it was, the finding of it would bode ill for any of the perceived enemies of Harad and Umbar. One of the Lossoth elders thought it might be good if they sent a message to the Elves in the Gulf of Lune, to ask for aid in ridding the Ice Bay of these treasure seekers. What use that would be, though, was debated hotly, since travel by land or sea would take many, many weeks.

In the midst of the discussion, Rôg cleared his throat to draw their attention and then spoke in a hesitating manner. ‘Begging your pardon, but if you can tell me where it is I need to go, I can take your message for you. Should only take a day if it is somewhere near the havens in Mithlond.’

The clansmen looked at him as if he had gone quite daft, and then one by one they began to laugh at his preposterous offer. ‘A day to make it to The Star and Swan at the Grey Havens?!’ one of them hooted. ‘What’s your friend propose to do, Bear? Fly?’

‘Well, yes, actually,’ said Rôg quietly. ‘The Star and Swan, you say? At the Grey Havens?’ Stepping outside the ice hut, the laughing crowd following after him, Rôg walked quickly to a large open space on the frozen tundra. I’ll return as soon as I can with help.’ Many of the group shook their heads at him, and returned to the shelter of the hut. The wind was picking up and already there were swirling flurries of snow that obscured the landscape. Bear watched Rôg as he moved farther away from the hut. He was hoping the man would give up the crazy idea and return to warmth of the hut with him. Rôg’s figure had grown dim in the distance and Bear called out to him. His words caught in his throat as he saw through the thick white blanket of snowy air a huge, dark figure take to the air

The brown Wyrm’s wing-beats stirred up the swirling flurries even more. He circled once, close over the small figure of Bear below him, then dipping his head once to the wide-eyed man, he flew south.

~*~

It was late night when he circled the Havens. Winter clouds obscured the moon and blocked the stars, making his drop down to an empty field just a short ways north of the gulf go unnoticed. A very short walk brought him to the cobblestone street that ran through the middle of the small town and down to the harbor itself. A narrow, dirt side street that paralleled the main one was where The Star and Swan sat, an Elvish watering hole for those still considering the trip West. Cirdan and his ship had not been seen in many years and the clientele of the Inn had continued to grow slowly, the patrons becoming fast friends. It was an unassuming little place . . . plain in looks, the wood greyed from years of contact with the salt sea mists and breezes. It bore no sign, only a small engraving on the thick oak door of an Elven Swan ship with a single mast; the sail of which bore a reyed, six-pointed star. What looked like waves were etched along the ship’s side and seemed to break against the bow . . . though on closer look they were not waves but clouds . . .

Rôg pushed open the door, stepping into the welcome heat of the small fire in the stone hearth. He pushed back his brown hood, letting his eyes accustom themselves to the level of light in the Inn. There were Elves . . . a fair number of them in his estimation, scattered about in the booths and at the tables in the Common Room. Their grey eyes were all turned to him, a detached sort of curiosity showing in them. ‘What sort of creature is this?’ he could almost hear them wondering. Not one to dither when action is called for, Rôg stepped into the middle of the room and cleared his throat loudly in the silence.

‘Begging your pardon, Master Innkeeper,’ he began, acknowledging the aproned Elf who leaned on the bar, his brows raised at the out of place visitor. ‘And yours also, good Sirs and Ladies . . . but I was asked to bring a message to the Elves of Lune from the men who live round the Ice Bay. Something is troubling them, and they need your assistance to sort it out.’

‘And what sort of trouble would that be, Rôg?’ came a vaguely familiar voice from the shadowed corner of a booth. Rôg squinted into the darkness, seeking a face to fit the voice.

‘Luindal? Is that you I hear?’ He went on before the Elf could clamber from the booth and show himself. ‘Big trouble, I think. There are men seeking two stones lost by other men long ago, in the bay. Good men, I think it was who lost the stones . . . a great round stone and a lesser, the elders told me . . . but I fear to tell you it is men of the Far South, Corsairs from Umbar, who now seek to gain them for themselves.

[piosenniel]

Child of the 7th Age’s post

Luindal gently pushed his cup of nectar to the side and peered intently across the Common Room; he had been startled to hear the message given to the Innkeeper. He craned his neck for a closer look and was even more surprised to observe that the messenger was someone he actually knew: Rôg the Shapechanger, a man of many talents who had last crossed his path during a visit to the home of a friend near Minas Tirith. The words the Shapechanger spoke seemed even more unlikely than the fact that the speaker had apparently materialized out of nowhere in the middle of the Havens. As Luindal well knew, the young man had certain special talents that even he and his fellow Elves could not match.

Luindal stood up and walked over to his friend, gesturing Rôg to join him at one of the corner tables; then, he stretched out his lanky frame and carefully listened to his companion’s strange tale of a Corsair sea captain who had recently arrived in the north searching for two ancient Stones at the bottom of the Ice Bay. Clearly, these were the palantiri of Annúminas and Amon Sôl that had sunk some thousand years before, when the Elven ship sent to rescue the King had capsized and all aboard, including Arvedui, perished beneath the ice.

Luindal first explained how the Stones could be used to communicate thought and images over great distances, and even to twist and manipulate the mind of the speaker on the other end, duplicitous acts that Sauron had once used to his own evil intent. With a sigh, he added, “I must take this news to Cirdan immediately. He has but late returned to the Havens, with ships to take more of our kin. I do not know what he will say, only that this could have terrible consequences for the peace of Arda and Elessar's intention to restore goodness to the land.”

Rôg responded, “What would you do then to help the Lossoth and rescue the Stones, if this thing were left to you?”

“Do not even ask!” Luindal’s frustration was evident in his curt denial. “I am but an Elven seafarer, a simple Wood-Elf with a knack for boats. Such questions are above me. Other Elves in the Havens understand these matters better than I do. Cirdan can decide what to do and have them mount an expedition to put things right.”

With the end of their conversation, Luindal offered to shelter his friend for the night. He had plenty of room on the swan ship Phalás, or Sea-Spirit, now moored beside the dock: this vessel currently served as his home. Hastily escorting Rôg down to the quay, Luindal offered his goodbyes and promised to return by dinnertime.

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

It was several hours later when Luindal returned to the Phalás. Rôg came out from below and greeted him on deck, anxious to learn what had happened.

For quite a while, Luindal said nothing, instead pulling a plug of weed from his satchel along with a pipe as he stood by the rail blowing decorative smoke rings while staring stubbornly at the water. Finally, he spoke, “A nice habit, this.” Luindal gestured to his pipe. “I picked this up on my most recent voyage to Gondor where I had the good fortune to meet two periannath who had friends in Minas Tirith.”

“That is what keeps me here instead of sailing with my family--the chance to explore the wonders of the Sea, to meet new people and hear new things. Early on, I could have left any day, if I wished. I might have walked to the harbor and climbed aboard Cirdan’s vessel. Even now, Cirdan has returned once more and another shipload of my people will soon depart. Today, I wonder if I should take passage on that ship. Yet it appears that this cannot be. ”

In a lower voice, he added, “Your news was taken seriously. In fact, tomorrow, before we leave, Cirdan wishes to speak with you privately.”

“Before we leave?” Rôg interrupted.

“Yes, I’m afraid that’s right…. I am to go north in two days. In fact, I am to command the ship that sails to the Bay. And somehow, we are to retrieve the Stones before the Corsairs do. If we cannot do that and they get there first, we must challenge them to battle. Whatever happens, they cannot come away with those Stones. It could be the death of Gondor. Cirdan says that there are few left who have experience sailing and fighting. Sadly, I happen to be among those few.”

Luindal took another puff on his pipe and observed. “As a youngster, I heard many tales from my mother about Elves who had such knowledge of shipbuilding and sailing that their skill was deemed an art. Even today, we sing songs that recall their golden deeds. Only now these Elves are gone, and it is left to me.”

Luindal stared over at Rôg, “These Snowmen of yours….they should have had you fly to Minas Tirith and ask the Men for help. It is their age now, not mine. I thought I had seen my last fighting when the Ring War ended. I know this must be done and I will do my best, but I wish it might be different. The last time an Elven ship was sent to the Bay, everyone aboard perished.”

“Luindal, I am sorry for that other Elven ship,” Rôg interrupted. “And sorry also that this burden must fall to you who do not wish to carry it. But, the Corsairs have made the lives of the Lossoth miserable and I feared they would do the same to others. The Snowmen cannot wait for Men to travel north. Elessar’s help would have come too late.”

“I understand,” his friend nodded. “You were right to do as you did. With these Stones, the Corsairs could force their will on many. I will not speak of my feelings again. And I promise you that I will do everything in my power to stop the Corsairs from seizing these Stones. By right, they do not even belong to the Elves, but to Elessar. Come now. Let us talk as friends and have some dinner. We will need all the strength we can muster over the next few weeks.”

With that exchange, the companions turned and went below, where Rôg had already set out a meal for them to share.

The conversation finally turned to their impending trip to the north as Luindal noted, "I have no fear of getting there. The Stars will guide us north. It should take only a week or so, once we put out to Sea. I wish it were earlier in the year. Yet, there is still time to make it through. Whatever weather comes, I can bring the ship to anchor in the Bay. It is what happens afterwards that bothers me. Whatever we do must happen soon or we run the risk of being trapped over the winter, or even of wrecking the ship. I do not want to repeat Arvedui's mistake; nor do I want to spend months battling Corsairs, of whom I personally know nothing other than the unpleasant tales I've heard from you and Mithadan."

Luindal fingered a piece of food and pushed it over to the side of his plate. Given the responsibilities weighing on his head, he had little appetite. “It's true that I can personally stand frigid weather and ice storms with little problem, and I know how to swim quite well. But knowing how to swim is a bit different than diving down to the bottom of the Bay and somehow locating ancient objects that have been lost over a thousand years. Once we find them, we can use a winch to heave up the Stones. It is locating them, and attaching the straps and ropes that remains the main problem. I have no ideas of my own."

[piosenniel]

Piosenniel’s post

Rôg had listened closely to Luindal as he spoke. As sometimes happens, a word caught his attention, sending his thoughts down rambling paths. . . . swim . . . Something he had seen on his explorations with Bear, his Lossoth guide, niggled at the edges of memory. He paused in mid-chew, his eyes fixed on his plate. With his fork, he traced a pattern in the thin pool of gravy on the flat of the dish. A sleek figure in vague outline seemed to move beneath his hand. He could not quite make it out before it disappeared beneath the coalescing sauce. His journal! The entry would be there if he could just remember when he’d written it.

‘I have no ideas of my own . . .’ he heard Luindal trail off in a half question. He took a breath and refocused on the Elf across from him. ‘Give me a little time. There is something I cannot quite recall right now. It may be of some help . . .’

[piosenniel]

Child of the 7th Age’s post

At each churning motion of the Bay, the waves swelled and then crashed against the ship’s bow, with water flying up so high that it came flooding over the deck. Despite the run off into the drains and over the side of the hull, Luindal still found himself standing ankle deep in water. Rushing from one end of the ship to the other, he barked out orders to his crew to strike the mainsail, hoist the storm sail in its stead, and drop the sea anchor over the side to provide needed weight.

Despite the heaving of the sea, the ship was managing to stay upright as they struggled forward into the Ice Bay. At least the Phalás was carrying a heavy ballast, a special precaution he’d taken knowing that they’d likely encounter poor weather on the trip. Things had gone well for first week on the open seas, but once he crossed into the Bay the heavens had opened with torrential rains and wind. It almost seemed that the Bay itself was unwilling to open its treasures to these curious outlanders, however well intentioned they might be.

The plain fact was that Luindal did not know too much about the local territory or conditions. He was used to living close to the land or water, and it bothered him that he had so little understanding of this strange place that he was in. He hoped Rôg was right in his assessment that a number of the most trustworthy Lossoth would be helping them in this endeavor. Their chances for success would be much greater if they could only get the local people to aid them. For the hundredth time in the past week, he reminded himself of the fact that, if the Elves and Men had simply accepted the counsel of the Snowmen who had warned them not to try and sail, many lives would have been spared, to say nothing of the Stones themselves.

He glanced around at his crew to make sure that they were holding up in the storm; they were all brave hearted Elves but only a few had real experience on sailing ships. This was apparently true of Rôg as well. The greenish tinge on Rôg’s face suggested that his friend would rather not be on this heaving ship.

A ferocious blast of wind came scudding down from the north, hitting the vessel broadside. The ship lurched sidewise but thankfully recovered, and after swinging around halfway, continued inching into the harbor. Luindal cast a wary eye up to the mainmast. He hoped that the lines would hold and that the mast would stand tall and firm. The last thing he needed was a cracked spar.

As the winds pulled back and the ship sailed into shallow waters, Luindal instructed the helmsman to take care not to bring them to close to the banks of ice, which lined the shore and already projected out into the Bay. In just a few more weeks, the Bay would freeze over even more, making it very difficult to navigate at all.

Out of the corner of his eye, on the far side of the Bay, Luindal caught sight of another large sailing vessel, this one very different in appearance than his own. She bore a strange black flag above her mast, with what looked like a exotic heraldic device imprinted on the material. He spied a number of men and a woman or two wearing thick fur coats, probably members of the Corsair crew; most of them had dark hair and brown or olive skin. He was too far away to pick out the expressions on their faces. But he had a feeling that they did not look too happy at the moment.

[piosenniel]

Regin Hardhammer’s post - Mareth

Marreth sat brooding inside the cabin of his ship, which had been moored at the side of the Ice Bay, within a well hidden cove that was totally free of ice and snow. The weather was stormy and the night dark. He gazed out at the violent sea as the waves rose and thunder roared. This was the worst storm he had experienced since his arrival in Forochel some three months before. It was an ominous sign that the weather was changing, and that blankets of snow and ice would soon descend on their heads. He found himself troubled and frustrated that he and his men had made so little progress towards accomplishing their goal.

Earlier that year, everything had seemed more optimistic. Marreth’s patron, the great Lord Castamir, had been searching ancient scrolls to obtain information on artifacts of power, especially those created by the Noldor. As a descendent of the Black Numenoreans, Castamir had extensive knowledge of early languages and lore, which he hoped to use to seize control in Umbar and eventually to challenge Gondor itself. While visiting Minas Tirith on a trading mission, Castamir had been able to consult the royal library and was elated to learn about the ancient Stones of Annumínas and Amon Sûl. He immediately decided to send out an expedition to locate and retrieve these objects of power from their watery grave at the bottom of the Ice Bay of Forochel. These Stones would give him the means to spy on Elessar’s troops and navy as well as to keep a controlling eye on his own people.

Circumstances seemed to favor such an expedition. There had been several years of drought in the North, with diminished amounts of rain and snow. As a result, the water of the Bay was shallower than it had been for some time, with stretches of the coastline and its maze of caves and rocks exposed to public view for the first time.

Marreth had eagerly sworn allegiance to Castamir, agreeing to head the expedition. Castamir’s plan seemed like the perfect way for Marreth to gain revenge. During the War of the Rings, Marreth had served on his father’s ship as part of the Corsair fleet that sailed up the Anduin. He had seen Elessar lead the hosts of the dead onto the pirates’ ships, and his own father driven mad as he jumped overboard to his death. Marreth had sworn to avenge the death of his father by bringing ruin to Elessar and his kingdom. These two Stones could help accomplish that goal.

Marreth and his ship had arrived at the Bay in early summer and spent months struggling to locate the missing globes. But the search had not gone quite as smoothly as expected. An exploration of the coastline and caves had yielded no results. And even on the fringes of the Bay, the Corsair divers could not stay in the water long enough to find anything without freezing to death. At first, the Losseth, the native peoples of the Ice Bay, had been suspicious and sought to avoid the strangers. As time wore on, a few malcontents began to assist Marreth, won over by future assurances that the Corsairs would supply a large cache of weapons to help them topple the existing Lossoth chieftains and seize leadership within their own tribes.

These malcontents, in turn, provided the Corsairs with seals that had been specially trained to seach for evidence of shipwrecks along the bottom of the Bay. With the establishment of peace, there had been a considerable increase in the number of trading ships that sailed North over the summer months. Along with this increase came a rise in the number of shipwrecks.

Those Lossoth who could handle the trained seals actually made their living from salvage operations, having the animals first locate the vessels and bring up a piece or two of sunken booty to those waiting in the ships. Then Lossoth divers would plunge into the waters and quickly secure the objects using a heavy leather net or sturdy ropes before attaching these to the hook of the WINCH (http://www.m-w.com/mw/art/winch.htm). The last step would be pulling the object to the surface and unloading it onto the boat. This whole operation was only feasible during the summer when large stretches of water were free of ice.

Marreth had hired the men and told them to use these same tactics to hunt the palantiri, but they had still not achieved success. As the weather began to worsen, the Corsair pushed his crew and their Lossoth allies even harder to try and find the Stones.

Marreth set aside his reflections. The storm was blowing furiously: he needed to make sure that the rigging of the ship was securely fastened. Marreth rose abruptly, rushed out into the hall, and barked to his two most loyal officers, Diera and Jarlyn, to follow him on deck. As he was checking the rigging at the bow, he saw in the distance a large sailing vessel being tossed about by the waves. He could barely make out the distinctively swan-like outline of an Elven ship. He lurched forward in astonishment, clinging to the rail, and tried to get a clearer look. He had only seen such vessels in the ancient lore books that he had read. His second reaction was one of anger. Such a ship could only be drawn to the Ice Bay for the same reason that he was. They must be here to take the Stones for themselves and their allies the Gondorians.

Marreth roared out above the din of the storm, “Infernal Elf vermin! Thou vain, milk livered coxcombs, may you sink to the bottom of the sea!” Then he turned to his captains, pointing an accusing finger towards the bobbing ship, “Look there, we have company, and I fear they are up to no good!”

[piosenniel]

Niluial's post

Elwë shuddered as the brawling, icy wind punched him with a giant fist of cold as the thunder roared and crackled above him. The prying fingers of the cold groped through the layers of woollen undergarments, forcing his cold touch upon him. He took a darting look at Andtuariel who was standing with her hands clutched on the railing of the ship and her head hanging over the edge. Her face was as white as a ghost, her lovely rosy cheeks were gone. Andtuariel's eyes that were normally filled with expression were now sad and lifeless. Elwë always knew it was a bad idea to take her with him; she missed her family greatly and was seasick permanently. He knew he should have forced her to stay but she refused to:

”I will go where I wish! I need adventure, you know how I long for adventure, how I dream to fight for good, just as much as you long for it. I may be a woman but I am strong. Please…” Andtuariel pleaded with Elwë.

“Andtuariel, I said no! You can go look after our families, I’ll be back. You could endanger yourself, be harmed then what am I to do?”

He remembered how stubborn she was the day he said she would stay behind. He couldn’t make her stay; she threatened to follow which would have been even more dangerous.

Elwë wiped the rain off his face with his bleeding hands and sighed deeply. He dragged once more at the ropes of the sails but they were too big and heavy and refused to move. He winced as the ropes bit into his flesh which caused more blood and pain. Elwë glanced at the running tide and saw a massive wave break, the water sprayed onto the deck, sending Elwë and Andtuariel to the floor and wetting all the sailors that were hard at work, pumping water and wrestling with the sails on the deck.

Elwë stood and dragged himself up from the floor with difficulty, as his clothes were drenched. He peered at the wild sea again but this time he didn't only see mist and lightening but something else. Elwë squinted and sighed miserably, “I was hoping they wouldn’t be here so soon.”

Andtuariel peered at the ship in the distance in wonder, “who is it?” she paused while studying the black sailed dromonds with a puzzled expression on her face, she clutched onto the rails of the ship, "Its not the C.. Cor...?" Andtuariel stuttered.

“Of course it is the ship of the corsairs!” Elwë snapped. “We were expecting them, didn't you know? You can be so naïve and to think you have spent so much time on a ship and have read so much! We are here to keep the Corsairs from getting the Palantíri!” he shook his head and rolled his eyes.

He glanced at their bobbing ship once again in wonder and curiosity. Deep down he was awed by the corsairs, amazed at their will and perseverance, all for the Palantiri. They had left their Southern Climate, into the cold to search for the stones. Even with this wonder for them, he knew that they were dangerous, that they would not hesitate to kill them all.

[piosenniel]

Arry’s post

Carandû clamped his wide-brimmed hat down firmly on his head, tying it securely, as he left the protection of the hatch way. The hat was of tightly woven fiber, covered with thin, cured sealskin. It kept the rain from his eyes as it pounded down on the ship, but did little to save his face from being drenched by the waves as they crossed the bar into the bay. It was his oilskin pants and overcoat that protected him from the main onslaught of the frigid waters. Inside the haven of the ice bay, the waters were at least a little calmer. Though, you can’t tell by him!, he thought, eyeing the figure of Rôg clinging for dear life to the ship’s railing as his stomach protested the mixing of the his last meal with the heaving of the ship. Carandû’s earlier offer to tie the man to the railing so that he wouldn’t pitch overboard had been waved away by Rôg. It had been with some reluctance that he’d left the green-tinged fellow on deck, but then he’d noted the deathlike grip Rôg had on the railing. And apparently it had kept him safe from the overwashing waves.

Annû, he could see, was up on the main cross spar, shinnying back toward the rope ladder with its ratlines that ran down the length of the mast. The sails, on his side, were secured. He saw his brother make some sign to the other who had gone up with him – it looked, though as if the other one had also managed to secure his sections and needed no assist. Carandû waved for his brother to come to him once his feet had hit the deck. ‘I’ve brought your boots and a pair of dry socks,’ he said, pulling Annû beneath the shelter of a small overhang near the wheelhouse. ‘Get them on before your toes fall off!’ Annû grinned at his older brother and ducked a friendly cuff as he replied with a ‘Yes, ammë!’

‘I saw something when I was up top,’ Annû said, jamming his feet into his boots. ‘Over there, as the gull flies, from where Rôg is hanging on. To the right, where that glacier comes down to the lip of the bay.’ He pulled his brother to the railing, slipping along on the slippery and still wave-tossed deck. Narrowing their eyes, they peered off toward a shallow cove at the edge of the bay.

‘She’s a trim vessel,’ grunted Carandû, his brow furrowing at the far-off sight of the Corsair ship. ‘I’ll give her that. They’re well anchored, I see.’ He pursed his lips and hmmphed at the sight, wondering how familiar the captain of the vessel was in these far northern waters.

‘I know,’ commented his brother, picking up on his thought. ‘They don’t keep moving her along the coastline or pull her out to deeper waters, she’ll be bound fast in the ice by week’s end.’

‘Easier for us, though, if she does get stuck!’ Carandû turned questioningly toward his brother. ‘You know – in all the berths we’ve had with Luindal, I can’t recall us ever coming this far north on the Sea-Spirit at this time of year. Old Captain Ferrin’s ship – yes; Remember? He liked to come up in the early spring before the thaws, get the first of the thick winter pelts in trade.’ He looked expectantly at his brother.

‘Oh, no! You’re not giving me the job of questioning the Captain! You do it; you’re the one who thought of it.’ Annû pulled his jacket tighter about him and nodded toward the stairway leading below-deck.

Carandû sighed, and nodded he’d think of some way to approach the subject. ‘But first let’s sample a small taste of the Spirit’s spirits; fortify my courage, so to speak. I hear tell that Cap’n Luindal’s laid in some of the sweet, fiery brandy-wine from The Star and Swan.’

Before turning to go, the two offered their assistance to Rôg who seemed to mumble something in the way of an affirmative. Arms hooked through his as support, the trio made their way to the stair and down.

[piosenniel]

Taralphiel’s post

“Hmmm…today should prove to be interesting…”

Freyn rolled his shoulder slowly, before stretching his arms out wide and letting out a bellow of a yawn before the front of his home. His wife was in the nearest room, mixing some warm soup for breakfast.

“What makes you say that, love?” She smiled up at him, slowly turning her spoon.

“I have that feeling, it hardly ever steers me wrong. We are in for a change, love. Perhaps a very good one. I cannot tell just yet…”

She looked back at her pot “Everyone here would agree we need a good change. The only things to blow in here have been those Corsair ships. Those I do not like…”

Freyn sighed. “Aye, I do not know what they are up to, I’ve not been so fortunate to find out. I do know they bring a bad air and a misfortune that works against what we already have…”

Freyn walked down through the light new snow, peering out over the Bay. Few ships or even small boats were there, the ice was already packed thick around the Bay and could crush them through the night. This morning was particularly rough, and the clouds frowned angrily over the white coastline, turning them a grey hue. Freyn had felt a storm come in during the night, so this was no surprise to him. Through the winds and soupy mist, Freyn laboured to see anything with his ageing eyes. But he let out a grumble when he turned away from the ocean.

“I must be dreaming... I think there may be a ship out there. By the look of it, it is definitely no Corsair vessel. How strange…”

[piosenniel]

Orofaniel’s post:

“Come Rodhal!” Galhardir cried as he waved his small hand towards the young lad. “We must hurry!” he continued. Rodahl ran as fast as he could with his thin legs towards his uncle.

“I’m comin’ uncle,” the boy muttered as he reached him, breathing heavily. Galhardir patted him on the shoulder. “Rodahl, you’ll get me next time…I know you will,” he said and smiled.

Ever since Rodahl could walk, the two of them had been running races. Rodhal, poor lad, had never been able to beat his uncle, since he had a far stronger body with longer legs. Everytime however, his uncle told him that he would beat him next time. “You’re too fast for me, uncle,” Rodhal said looking at him, still trying to ctah his breath. “Well, I’ve got lot of practice. You just wait, until you get a bit older. Your old uncle won’t stand a chance,” Galhardir said, smiling at his nephew. “Really?” Rodhal asked him as his eyes lightened up a bit. “Definitely,” Galhardir stated.

“You should go eat your dinner now, you’re parents are calling for you,” Galhardir said as he heard his very own brother calling for Rodahl.

“Alright then,” Rodhal said, seeming a bit disappointed. “Oh, lighten up, Rodhal. You can follow me to the harbour tomorrow. Right now, you should eat your dinner…Besides, I won't go down to it..just do some scouting on the top of the small hill. You won't miss anything, I assure you,” Galhardir said, patting the boy on the shoulder, as they both walked towards the ice hole.

“Rodhal, my dear boy, what have you and your uncle been up to today?” Gonlahr asked his son as they approached him. He greeted his brother while he smiled. “Oh, we’ve been running…” Rodhal started, with a huge smile around his face. “Those races again, I assume?” Gonlahr interrupted looking at Rodhal. “Indeed,” Galhardir confirmed. “I just told him that he ought to eat his dinner so he’ll run faster,” he then continued. “Well, your uncle is right!” Gonlahr said patting his by, leading him inside the hole. Gunnhild appeared in front of them, telling them that the food was ready.

As Galhardir turned and was about to leave, his brother asked him if he wouldn’t stay and eat with them. “Oh no, thank you brother,” he started. “I’m not hungry, although I thank you. I’m heading down to the harbour right now,” Galhardir said and went out. A rush wind hit him in the face. The wind was cold and he shuddered.

“Do you really think it’s good to go down there now?” Gonlahr asked him sounding a bit concerned for his brother. “There seems to be a storm coming up…if not here, certainly further down the bay. Maybe it’ll just hit the ocean, I’m not sure,” Gonlahr said, looking out at the sky. There were dark clouds coving the most of it, and the wind was only increasing its strength.

“I’ll take my chances,” Galhardir said, amused by his brother’s concern. “It wouldn’t surprise me, brother. The weather has never been an obstacle for you, has it now?” Gonlahr replied while laughing. “Hurry up then,” Gonlhar said and waved his brother off. But before Galhardir could make another step, Rodhal appeared. “Can’t I go with him, father?” he asked innocently. “No, the weather doesn’t look too good. You should stay at home,” Gonlahr said. He almost regretted that as he saw the boy’s face expression. “Please father…I’ve eaten my dinner,” he continued, almost sounding desperate. “Have you asked your mother?” Gonlahr then asked Rodhal. The boy nodded. “Let him come…” Galhardir then interrupted. “I promise to bring him back before night strikes,” he continued.

Silence.

“Alright then,” Gonlahr said unwillingly. Rodhal’s face lit up once again as he dressed himself in more proper clothes. “Thank you father,” he said as Gonlahr embraced his son showing both of them off. Galhardir then started to run, expecting to see his nephew in his heels almost instantly.

The harbour wasn’t far of, and they reached it, not quite out of breath yet. One could definitely see that the weather was getting worse as the cold wind hit them in their faces. Up the short hill and they could see the harbour. They stood behind a rock, so it would protect them from the roughest wind. They had a nice view over the ocean and some parts of the harbour though.

“It’s lightening!” Rodhal cried at his uncle as he spotted a short glint of light across the sea. Indeed, it had been lightening Galhardir thought, as another glint of light struck down. As they scouted to the sea, Rodhal noticed something getting closer to the harbour. It had been hard to spot before, but now it seemed quite clear. It was a ship!

“Uncle! It’s a ship! Down ‘ere!”

“What?” Galhardir muttered, looking in Rodhal’s direction. “Down ‘ere!” he continued, pointing just beneath the rock. Galhardir took some steps forward, leaning over the rock. To his big surprise there was a ship trying to make it in. The wind and the big waves were making it difficult for them. “What ship is out in weather like this?” Galhardir questioned himself.

As he leaned even more over the rock, he spotted the Corsair’s ship on the other side. Therefore, these new ones couldn’t be Corsairs, could they? He held on to that thought as he found it quite pleasing. As long as it wasn’t Corsairs….because he simply couldn’t stand another amount of corsairs interfering with their lives. “Who do you reckon' it is, uncle?” Rodhal asked, interrupting Galhardir’s thinking. “I’m not sure, boy,” he replied, still watching the ship. He could see that they had great difficulties controlling it. How would they make it into the harbour, he wondered.

“It’s not…corsairs, is it?” Rodhal then asked. His voice was thin and frightened. “Hopefully not,” Galhardir replied, feeling great anger. If it really was another ship with Corsairs he didn’t know what to think, nor do. But he wouldn’t stand still, not doing anything - that he knew for sure. He wouldn’t let them treat the Lossoth as they had treated them so far. It wasn’t acceptable, and it had to be stopped. “Oh wait…” Galhardir exclaimed. “These people are elves!” he continued. “How do you know that uncle?” Rodhal asked him with great curiosity. A slight of relief struck both of them. “The ship. I think I know when I see an Elven ship,” Galhardir muttered. “It has to be,” he then continued, overwhelmingly satisfied.

“We need to tell this to your father!” Galhardir exclaimed, fetching the boy by his arm. “Come,” Galhardir then said, starting to walk hurriedly down the short hill. As they reached the bottom, they ran as fast as their legs could possibly carry them; Rodhal was even a few paces in front of his Uncle.

[piosenniel]

Lalwendë's post

Tarn looked out of the door at the brewing storm with an angry look on his face. He had to go and feed his seals and leave the warmth of his new stone hut behind him. He felt such pride in having been able to build this humble dwelling that he did not like to leave it. One of his cronies, Talsson, was slumped by the fire in a drunken stupor. They had been playing knucklestones and Talsson had lost his money to Tarn. The agreement had been that if Talsson wanted another game then he would have to offer the labour of his son, Thynne, to Tarn. The man, drunk as he was, knew that the labour would not be handsomely rewarded, and he knew that he could lose the profits he normally gained from hiring out the lad, but he would not lose face, so the deal was done.

Thynne, a well-fed fourteen year old, sat in the corner of the hut on a pile of furs, staring at Tarn, wondering whether his new job was a good thing or a stroke of bad luck. Tarn looked at the lad and motioned with his head towards the door.

“Get yourself wrapped up, there‘s a storm coming in. You will come with me now and start by learning how to feed the seals” Tarn watched as the youth scrambled into his warm clothes. “I suppose you can swim?”.

Tarn was the seal handler, but he rarely went into the water these days. He paid those with little hope, such as Thynne, to do this for him. He himself had survived by carrying out hard labour such as this when he left the family, so he didn’t see any harm in others making a living this way. Sometimes, he thought he was doing them a favour. If he’d had any children of his own then he’d have had them working with the seals as soon as they could walk, and that would be for free. But this lad looked strong and bright enough, he might have hired him anyway, had his father not been such a drunken idiot and offered him at half the going rate.

*********

Tarn stood a bucket of fish on a flat rock by the side of the water and let out a long, piercing whistle. The lad pursed his lips and tried to copy him. Tarn laughed. “I suggest you get some practice in, though I doubt you’ll ever truly master it the way I have. Watch me.”

Again he whistled, and ten sleek bodies came towards them through the water. The dog-like faces of the seals surfaced; they could smell the fish and came right up to the edge of the rock, circling and crying. The smallest one heaved itself out of the water, and his head bobbed up and down expectantly.

“This is the youngest, I think you could start with him,“ Tarn said to the lad, who had stepped back a little from the creature. “No need to be afraid of him, he’s learning just like yourself”. Tarn put one of the silvery fish into Thynne’s hand and the lad gingerly offered it to the young seal, who carefully took it, and slipped back into the water. Tarn quickly threw more fish out to the older seals, to keep them from taking the fish from the youngster.

“Why did he have a golden tag in his ear?” said the boy, suddenly finding his voice.

“That,” said Tarn, “Is how they are identified as my own seals. As soon as one is born I put the golden ring into his ear, and then anyone knows that he is mine. If one were to be hunted, then that hunter would have to pay dearly, probably with more wealth than that of five chieftains.” Thynne looked shocked. “But that, thankfully, has never yet come to pass. And these fine sailors, they seem to appreciate their worth as much as I do.” Tarn looked solemnly towards the cliffs, where the masts of the Corsair ship were rolling to and fro in the swell.

Tarn admired the Corsairs, with their proud bearing and fierce talk. He was eager to do well for them, partly because he might get greater rewards, but also because he wished to earn their respect. He was starting to form notions of making some kind of allegiance with them. Tarn did not exactly fawn around the Corsairs, as grovelling was not in Tarn's nature, but he made sure to impress upon them how invaluable he was, and made great show of both his skill with the seals and what he considered his status among the other Lossoth.

Tarn and Thynne threw out more fish, and several seals came out of the water, nudging Tarn’s legs with affection, which prompted him to scratch their necks. He started to do a few of his training rituals while the lad stood and watched, shivering in the driving rain and wind. He was hungry and licked the remains of the fish from his gloves. Having finished this, he squinted out to sea, where his attention was caught by a ship being tossed about on the waves.

Tarn soon noticed that the lad wasn’t paying him any attention. “Look sharp, lad, or it’s just the diving you’ll be doing. Thought you were brighter than that.” He looked up to see what Thynne was peering at and he soon picked out the shape of a white ship trying to tack into the bay.

“By the stars…”

[piosenniel]

Rinfanawen's post

Diera stood in the tight hall below deck trying to concentrate on the ship and what needs needed to be met. She was cold. Long had her journey to this forgotten land in the North kept her in freezing temperatures, but she tries not to think of it very often. The ship continued to toss violently on the waves. She felt her nerves rise inside of her as she thought of the rolling waves and pouring rain outside.

As much as she tried to force her mind away from the pressing storm, the only though she could think to was the thought of the Lossoth. Strange creatures they were to her. Those who actually found comfort in such places as this land were certainly not those of her liking, but Marreth found success in them, so she had to continue to trust in the odd Snowmen of the North. Snowmen they were, indeed. Diera knew that they were sent to this land for a purpose, and perhaps that purpose was to help them recover the lost Palantiri. She only hoped.

Diera began to think strongly on the matter of the Palantiri. We've been searching for so long, she thought. Those hopeless natives have helped us little...but not anymore. As soon as this storm ends, I will take my request to Marreth to get more Lossoth to join in our search. They must help. They are the only ones who have adapted to this wretched land well enough to stay under the water long enough. Our people have suffered too much. Far too long...

Suddenly her thoughts were broken by footsteps coming down the hall. She jumped slightly, solely for the reason that she was torn so quickly from thinking, as her friend and fellow shipmate, Doyal, turned the corner. He seemed troubled as well. Water dripped from his clothing as he walked.

"It feels as if it's going to blow us over up there," Doyal sighed as he approached Diera. "The storm has picked up a bit."

Diera stared at him in shock. She spoke in great sarcasm, "Even more? Great, and I was just beginning to get my mind off of the tidal waves outside."

"What's your problem? I thought you loved the sea...more than anything, you say," said Doyal.

"There is no problem," replied Diera seriously. "I think we should get back on deck anyway now that the storm has worsened."

Diera and her shipmate began to walk towards the entrance to the deck, but they were stopped quickly by an order from Marreth...to follow him on deck. Diera said nothing of the order and did as her captain commanded. She barely made it out of the door before Marreth was at the rail and staring at what appeared to be an Elven ship on the rushing waves.

"Look there," Marreth said as he turned to Doyal and Diera. "We have company, and I fear they are up to no good."

Diera stared at the distant vessel in anger as she thought of the risk the Palantiri were in of falling into evil hands. The Elves were not going to find them...no matter what it took.

[piosenniel]

Kitanna's post

The wind was violent today and Nilak was relieved to finally be safe in the cabin of the Corsair ship. He had been out in the storm helping to secure the rigging. It had been a hard day and for Nilak it was only getting worse.

Sitting before him in the cabin was Sernir, who was whittling away at a piece of wood. His face was angry and his eyes were just little slits in his face. “You said you had the best trained seals in the land. Yet here you are with nothing.” Sernir put down his dagger and the piece of wood. His grey eyes bore into Nilak’s, but still Nilak held his ground. “You are as worthless as all the other Lossoths.”

“I am doing what I can.” Nilak responded in the calmest voice he could find. Sernir was testing his patience.

“Need I remind you what is at stake? If you do not find this treasure then you will get nothing.” The Corsair could tell he had hit a nerve. This Lossoth was driven by his greed and Sernir could use that as motivation. Sernir rose from his seat and walked to the window of his cabin. He was looking at nothing, just staring blankly into space thinking of all he would gain if the Lossoth found the Stones first. Then he thought of what he would lose if Nilak failed.

“It is getting colder every waking hour and the storm is getting more violent. Soon even my seals will not be able to dive for these precious stones of yours.” Nilak said. Sernir stopped gazing out the window and glared at Nilak once more. “You ask the impossible of me. What is so important about these Stones anyway?”

“That’s none of your business!” Sernir snapped. He was about to say something else, but Nilak had completely turned his attention away. The Lossoth was now looking out the window. “What are you looking at, scum?”

“That ship coming into the dock.”

Nilak could hear Marreth screaming out to the ship. “Infernal Elf vermin! Thou vain, milk livered coxcombs, may you sink to the bottom of the sea!”

Sernir’s expression had changed and now he too watched the ship intently. “Who are they?”

“Elves and now it is more pressing than ever that we find those stones.” Sernir looked back at Nilak. “Now we must crush the Elves or we will get nothing from this.”

Nilak nodded. “I will find your treasure before the Elves do. No matter what it takes.”

[piosenniel]

Imladris' post - Jarlyn

Jarlyn slammed his fist on the table. “These Snowmen,” he said, “are not doing their jobs.” He glanced at the empty chair opposite him. He wanted to complain to Marreth. Tell him that he thought that the Snowmen were purposely being slow. Why did they want the Seeing Stones anyway? Business was grand without them. Having them could only cause trouble. What one didn’t know couldn’t harm one.

Jarlyn grimaced and sighed. Marreth wanted to do Castamir’s bidding as a vehicle for revenge for his father’s death. But as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t Elessar’s fault that his dear daddy had died. It had technically been that dread army of the Dead’s fault but as one could not take revenge upon the Dead then Marreth had to content himself with revenging himself on King Elessar. Thought how that would make any difference Jarlyn was at a loss to fathom.

He was jolted from his musing by Marreth ordering him on deck to check the rigging. As he was checking a knot, to make sure it was secure, he heard Marreth shout, “Infernal Elf vermin! Thou vain, milk livered coxcombs, may you sink to the bottom of the sea!”

“Well, if they sink,” Jarlyn muttered, “then we’re very liable to sink ourselves…”

But Marreth didn’t notice this comment and said, “Look there, we have company, and I fear they are up to no good!”

Jarlyn chortled. Considering that elves were good it was a bit of an oxymoron that they were up to no good. He stifled his laughter and said, “Well, we haven’t been successful and we’ve been here for how long? Honestly, they won’t be able to find the Stones either.”

[piosenniel]

Imladris' post - Jynne

Jynne craned his neck to the shoulder, listening to the bone creak with morbid pleasure. He peered into the gloom, towards the coast where the duped Snowmen would be huddling together against the fury of the storm. A little sneer curled about his thin lips. He remembered their naivety as the Corsairs had pulled into harbour. Some had thought the Corsairs would be their friends, that they would actually make them chiefs over their various tribes. A laugh almost escaped him. If anything, a trusted Corsair would be made the Snowmen’s leader. But the more they were deluded, the better able were they to control and manipulate them as a potter at work with his clay.

Behind him, Nilak and Senir were arguing with each other. A thin smile stretched his thin face. These Snowmen had not been successful in finding the drowned Seeing Stones. Their silly seals had come up spluttering and breathless and empty handed every time they dived. His eyebrows shrugged slightly. But what else was to be expected? They were power mongers, grovelling at the chance for power and control.

The Seeing Stones must be found. With them Castamir could spy upon his enemies, listen to covert secrets whispered in the darkness.

[piosenniel]

Elves are a helpful lot, thank the stars . . . especially these two . . . This comforting thought slid through Rôg’s mind as Carandû and Annû grasped him firmly under the arms and walked him from the rail and down the hatchway steps to the galley below. Despite the buffeting winds, the protected waters of the bay were indeed calmer. He felt his stomach settle down into some semblance of normalcy as they entered the small kitchen area. His nose took in the steamy scent of new brewed tea.

‘Think I could have a cup of that?’ he asked, seating himself at the small table. The Elf at the stove looked him over, taking in the chalky appearance behind the normal olive tinge. ‘Peppermint, perhaps . . . and a little honey, for you,’ the Elf laughed, whisking the pot of regular tea out of Rôg’s reach. ‘What about you two?’ he said, waving two clean mugs toward Carandû and his brother. In the same breath, he asked about what they had seen above-deck. Others of the crew had come down with news of sighting the Corsair ship. From what he could glean from their hurried reports he knew there was only one . . . but how big was she, he wondered. And had they seen any longboats in the water or near the shore. Or any of the skin-boats of the Lossoth tied up to the ship?

Rôg shrugged his shoulders at the Elf’s questions. He actually hadn’t seen the ship, having been otherwise occupied with his perusal of the waves slapping at the sides of the Sea-Spirit. Accepting the welcome mug of honeyed tea from Elf’s hands, he blew across it to cool it a bit. ‘What about you two,’ he said, between small sips of the fragrant liquid. ‘You see anything like that?’

[Arry]

Carandû nodded his head to the offer of a hot drink. His brother chuckled under his breath as he hung all their oilskins on the pegs outside the galley. ‘I heard that!’ Carandû snorted, handing his brother a mug of the welcome drink when he’d entered the room. ‘I’ve not forgotten my taste for the brandy-wine, brother mine. Just warming up to it first.’

Annû sat down at the table, across from Rôg. ‘The ship was a large one, but sleek. Fast, I’ll wager, in open water. And set up for attack and defense I’d also say. She was between us and the far shore, though, couldn’t see if any boats were tied up to her port side.’ He took a gulp of his tea and raised his brows at his brother who leaned against the door’s frame.

‘No, I saw no boats.’ Carrandû shifted his back against the wood, trying to find a more comfortable position. ‘You know, though, I think we might have sailed far enough beyond their position to catch a glimpse.’ He gave up his quest for the perfect spot and sat at the table with the others. ‘Have you seen the Captain come below,’ he asked the Elf who’d made the tea.

‘Not yet,’ said the Elf refilling Rôg’s mug. ‘He’s the one we should probably be asking. I’d imagine he’s had his spyglass trained on them since first sighting.’

[Child of the 7th Age]

Luindal had found safe harbor for the Spirit in a cove sheltered from the worst of the storm. Slowly, the wind and rain subsided. He had berthed the Elven swanship a considerable distance from the Corsair vessel and now it bobbed up and down in shallow waters on the western side of the Bay. The Spirit’s sails had been tied back onto the masts, and her anchor tossed over the side to rest on the muddy bottom.

Both ships were now positioned far enough from the shoreline that there was no danger either would collide with the burgeoning ice banks that ringed the edge of the Bay. The captains could, however, see each other's vessels.

Several hours had passed since their first arrival; the sun was sinking lower. Most of the crew remained below enjoying a well-earned respite from their arduous labor over the past week and chatting about the task that lay before them. Delicious odors, merry words, and snatches of song poured up through the open grill-hatches. Luindal caught the whiff of dinner and heard the voices of his companions speaking his name below. He would have preferred to go downstairs to join them and see how his friend Rôg was doing. But, at the moment, he had something else to do.

Leaning against the rail, he peered through his spyglass. A party of twenty had congregated on the coast. Each man climbed into a small coracle constructed of ash lathes and overlaid with hazel that was woven much like a basket. To make sure that the boats would not let in water, the Snowmen had smeared pitch over the outside frames. Each coracle was similar to the one Luindal had built as a youngster to ply the streams of Lorien. He watched as the Lossoth maneuvered their craft into the water using long poles, but then shifted to paddles when they progressed out deeper.

These looked to be the same folk Rôg had described. Many wore leggings and boots with thick fur mittens and parkas. Even from the deck, Luindal could see the gleem of hunting knives and axes hanging suspended from their belts. These men looked totally different than any other he had known. Yet he suspected that they had feelings about their own land that were not too different than the way his own Elves felt about theirs.

As the boats drew closer, the leader of the Snowmen signaled an intent to come aboard. Luindal watched in fascination as the solitary Lossoth climbed the ladder and clambered awkwardly over the railing, walking onto the deck. When the leader threw back a thick fur hood, Luindal was even more surprised to see that the face now revealed was that of a woman. She was small and sturdy with dark eyes and hair that hung down in two grey plaits tied back with scraps of leather. He could not have guessed her age. Among her people, she would have been counted an Elder.

“Alahseey. I am Alahseey,” she hastily explained, speaking perfect Westron. “I bring new from the Elders. They have asked me to come and speak with you. With me are the Lossoth who will help you to find the missing stones. They each know a bit of Westron, enough that you may talk with them.”

Luindal looked down at the coracles, each filled with a volunteer or two, and smiled readily at the welcome news. For a short time the two sat together on the deck speaking privately about how the Lossoth might best be used and what should be done next. By now, the small boats were tied up in a line and attached to the starboard side. Then Luindal beckoned the Snowmen to come aboard and to follow him down the ladder to greet the Elves.

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

There was silence below at the first sight of the strange new recruits, but it was quickly broken by the round of introductions. Alahseey brought forward each of the Lossoth volunteers in turn. The last to be introduced were Freyn and Galhardir, along with the latter's nephew Rodhal whose parents had finally consented that he come along, and Hilda Halvardsdatter who had been assigned to do a bit of cooking for the Elves as well as to tidy up the cabins on shipboard. Elwën and Andturariel nodded their head in greeting, while Carrandû and Annûlas came forward to welcome the new arrivals. After a few moments of chatting and a round of drinks, they all sat down together to listen to what Luindal and Alahseey had to say.

"Your help is most welcome," Luindal addressed Alahseey first and then smiled in the direction of the other volunteers. "I know little of these regions or its waters. We will rely heavily on your own knowledge and common sense for, without that, I am quite sure we will never find the Stones. As to what these Stones can do, .... and why the Corsairs would want them? I have heard some say they are magic, but that is not so. "

"It is more like the harpoon that you carry. In the hands of many, it is a dead and lifeless thing because they lack skill. For some, it becomes an instrument of killing and they strike out unwisely at other men. But for still others it is an instrument that gives life: a tool to be used with great skill so that they can feed and cloth their family. So too it is with the Stones. To those who know and understand the old tales, these Stones can be used for good purposes, for talking across long distances. But for those with evil intent, they can become instruments of enslavement or torture. This is what we must stop."

"Alahseey and I have agreed. We will begin the search in the great cave that fronts on the bay. The tide is low, much lower than usual, and it is possible that these things lost at Sea may now be found along the shoreline. The Corsairs have searched all the smaller caves already: only the great one is left. We will begin in the morning."

Bear turned an ashen face towards Luindal and queried, "The Great Cavern? That which we call the House of the Dead?" He shook his head and scowled. "But that is a terrible place. Even the Corsairs would not go there. The passages are so narrow that it is hard to get through. Some of the ground looks good and solid, but when you place your foot down it sinks into the mud or even breaks through the crust to deep water underneath. Parts of the cave floor are slick with ice, and I will not even mention the boulders scattered over the hillside always ready to come crashing down on the heads of the unwary. Surely you can not mean to start there?"

Luindal sighed. "Aye, mean it I do! Alahseey has looked at the maps and says this is the most likely place for the Stones to have settled, if they came onto the shore. We will begin at sunrise tomorrow. I would advise everyone to keep your festivities short and get some sleep tonight for tomorrow could be most difficult."

With that, Luindal walked over to Rôg and whispered a few hushed words in his ear. Then he gave instructions as to where the Lossoth would be housed on board, and asked Hilde to secure some provisions in town before nightfall. He escorted Alahseey back to her small boat, saying goodbye, but was surprised to see her paddling east across the Bay in the general direction of the Corsair vessel.

[Arry]

Carandû was pleasantly surprised at his first face to face meeting with the Lossoth. He’d only been on a very few trading voyages into the Ice Bay, and those only near the opening to the inlet. He was a mere seaman, and so he had not been sent out in the longboats with the traders who made the deals with the Lossoth hunters. None of the Lossoth had come aboard on those voyages, either. And all he could recall from those trips was that the men were broad in stature and maneuvered their boats deftly in the frigid waters as they came out to meet the trading boats (or at least he thought they were men – they were all clothed in thick furs and often had their fur-lined hoods pulled up around their heads). He’d often wondered what sort of creatures lurked beneath the layers of fur and leather.

Annû and he had gravitated toward a younger man, Galhardir, and his young nephew who accompanied him. Like the two Elven brothers, Galhardir was a merry fellow. Easy in strange company. A quite charming man, really with an infectious laugh. His small, deft hands flew like quick birds in the air before him as he spoke, emphasizing points and almost drawing pictures for his listeners to see.

And Rodhal, his nephew, was a rare treat for the two brothers. A skinny little thing, nine year’s old, with green eyes and freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. A delight for the two brothers because among the Elves living in the havens, there were very few children. Like his uncle, he was quite charming in his own quiet way. And it was engaging how the lad followed his uncle’s lead in his interactions with the Elves.

‘I wonder,’ said Carandû, finishing his mug of tea, and noticing that Rodhal was making a vain attempt to hide his tired yawns from them. ‘Since you’re staying aboard and setting out with us for that cavern in the morning – would you like to bunk in with us?’ Annû nodded his head at this suggestion. ‘We’ve a small cabin below deck – but it’s got 2 pair of bunk-beds,’ continued Carandû. ‘You would be most welcome to use one of them, while we use the other.’ He smiled widely at Galhardir and Rodhal. ‘What do you say?’

Galhardir was about to reply when Annû spoke up. There was something that had been nagging at him ever since Luindal had spoken of the plan he and the old woman, Alahseey, had agreed on. ‘One other question, Galhardir, nothing to do with sleeping arrangements, though . . . I noticed that when Captain Luindal said Alahseey had suggested we search the Great Cavern – many of your peoples’ faces blanched, and there were some looks of fear on a number of them.’ He paused for a moment not wanting to upset the boy, but wanting more information than had been given. ‘The House of the Dead, someone called it. Just how dangerous a place is it do you think?’

[Orofaniel]

Galhardir sighed as he heard Annû's question; first of all, he knew less about it than other men of his kind, second; it frightened him - even speaking of it made him anxious.

"The cave of the dead..." Galhardir muttered while looking at his nephew. Of course little Rodhal had been spared for all details when it had been talked of earlier; it wasn't appropriate to speak of such a place before such young ears. Annû noticed Galhardir's concerned look, but took no heed of it as he seemed curious about the cave. "Rodahl, you don't mind taking a short walk around the ship, do you?" Galhardir then asked him. Rodhal shrugged, but thought it could be quite exiting as he had never been on a ship before. He therefore gladly accepted this deal, and went for the door. "Be careful now, boy, and don't get into trouble," Galhardir then said, teasingly, as he knew how polite and kind his nephew was. The small boy smiled broadly as he left. "I'm sorry..." Annû then muttered. "No, it's alright," Galhardir then said. "I just don't want to frighten him, that's all," he continued.

"Well," Galhardir started nervously. "I know less about this cave then many of my kind, just so you are aware of it," he claimed. "I've been told many stories; however, few of them are true." Annü listened carefully while Galhardir was talking. "They say that the narrow, dark paths will make any man frightened of what really lies within the cave. It's very dangerous as rocks are falling down from the walls. Some say they fall down from "nothing", as they can't see it because of the great darkness. It has been said that as you walk the path disappears under your feet, which makes it difficult, or even impossible to return the same way you came. But since there are many small paths you still have a fear chance...but only if you find the right one. Those who venture within the cave cannot be sure to ever come out...That's for sure."

Annû swallowed, while Carandû gazed at him. They had been listening carefully to everything Galhardir had said and they were obviously not keen about it.

"Well, that's what they have told me," Galhardir then said, looking at the two elves, who hadn't said one single word after Galhardir had finished explaining. "I, personally, do not believe in it fully, although I do think some elements are true," he then stated. "Do not be afraid; most of it is probably made up by those who were too frightened to enter," he said, laughing a bit as he trying to seem more relaxed about it than he really was. The two others were still silent and amazed by what he had said.

"Y-you're probably right...." Annû then managed to mutter, looking at Carandû, who nodded politely. "I do not see a reason why people should lie about this cave though..." he then said, looking at Galhardir. "Nor do I," he then answered. "But some things are just made up, or exaggerated a little...or some times; quite a lot..."

Galhardir wasn't allowed to finished his sentence before Rodhal stormed in. "Uncle, it is amazing!" the boy said enthusiastically, dragging Galhardir by the arm. Galhardir laughed. "I knew you'd like it!"

"I almost fell over board!" Rodhal then exclaimed, merrily. "No you didn't!" Galhardir said teasingly as the boy laughed. "I'm joking uncle," Rodhal then giggled. "Oh..you almost had me there! You frightened me!" Galhardir then replied, smiling widely.

Annû and Carandû had then finally started to think about other things and joined the conversation; "You liked it then, eh?"

"Yes, sir!" Rodhal said politely.

"But, Rodhal, it's time to go to bed now, don't you think?" Glahardir then said, looking at the boy; he was tired, he could tell by the boy's eyes. "Oh..not now uncle! You must come with me and see the ship!" Rodhal exclaimed, horrified by Galhardir's suggestion. "And I will – tomorrow perhaps," Galhardir said. "But now you and I must rest – as well as these two gentlemen," Galhardir then explained the boy, while his eyes were turned to Annû and Carandû. The two elven brothers were still amazed and utterly curious about the cave and Galhardir’s story, or so it seemed. And yet, this was only the short version….

[Regin Hardhammer]

When the storm had finally calmed somewhat, Marreth decided he had better check on the sailboats that were used to haul supplies across the bay. His ship was sturdy enough to take the repeated bashing from the violent waves and harsh wind, but the smaller vessels were flimsier and could use a thorough inspection. The crews search had been frustrating enough, Marreth thought; they did not need to exacerbate matters by losing their tools and rations.

As he walked down the path, Marreth began to reflect. What was he going to do about these new intruders? Surely, he reflected, the Elves’ arrival is not merely a coincidence.. They must mean to reach the stones before we do and take them for themselves. Then the urgency to find the Palantiri and give them to Castamir was that much greater, not to mention the danger posed by the patches of ice that were accumulating on the edges of the Bay. There was no way that he was going to let these pussyfooting Elves steal the stones from right under his nose. Despite all the obstacles standing in his way, a spirit of determination overflowed inside of him to complete this mission just as he had always done.

When he reached the sailing boats docked in a small harbor next to the main ship, Marreth thought he heard something moving in the bushes, but when he turned to see what it was, he saw nothing. The boats appeared to have weathered the storm fairly well and all of the masts, hulls, and rudders were intact. A few of the sails appeared to have slight tears in them that he would tell his men to fix as soon as he returned to the ship. As he turned to leave a dark, cloaked figure emerged from the side of the path where he had earlier heard the rustling.

Marreth drew his rapier and pointed it at this stranger. “Explain yourself!” he bellowed commandingly, “Who are you and what business do you have with me coming out of the shadows like this?”

The answer came swiftly. “I am a Lossoth who has some information that might be of interest to you. Have you seen these Elvish newcomers to the bay?” Marreth nodded. “They are also after those stones you seek.”

“I figured as much,” growled Marreth.

“Yes. But I can tell you where these fellows are going and what they will be doing. I can even tell you their plans so that you can lay ambushes and pounce on them. Are you interested?”

Marreth considered this strange offer and began to weigh his options. He did not even know who this Lossoth was. Although this seemed like an excellent opportunity to gain the upper hand on the Elves, Marreth realized that it could also be a trap. However, such an opportunity was too good to pass up. Reluctantly, Marreth nodded again and began to speak.

“Why are you doing this? What do you want? How do I know you speak the truth?”

“ I wish to take advantage of this opportunity to gain power. I do not take this power for myself, but for someone else who deserves it. The Corsairs are great and by providing you with vital information, I will be able to see something happen among my own people. I will need a goodly supply of gold and weapons.”

“Very well. That is possible,” said Marreth quietly. “Now tell me what you know.”

“They plan to search the great cave known as the Cave of the Dead. It is cold, dark, and very dangerous. There are parts that are extremely narrow and places where ground that seems solid slips under your feet. They will begin at sunrise tomorrow.”

“The Cave of the Dead” scoffed Marreth, “You lie. Even Elf vermin aren’t that stupid. That cave is so dangerous that even we dared not enter it in our search. If what your saying is true, then perhaps we should just wait for them to die there instead of going in after them. Entering the Cave of the Dead! Pure madness! Had that oafish Elf leader lost his mind?”

“No. I speak the truth. It was with great trepidation and fear that they decided to look there, but they seemed to think that it is the most likely place that they could find the Palantiri.”

“If you lie Snowmen, I swear I will have your head impaled on a pike! Do you hear me!” screamed Marreth. “I warn you,” ne continued in a calmer tone, “I shall meet you again out here in a couple of days if your information proves accurate. Watch for the flash of the lantern at sunset. Do not come to my ship, for I find it best that this be kept private for now. If you prove useful, I might just reward you. Now off with you.” With that, the Lossoth lumbered back into the bushes.

When Marreth returned to his ship, he gathered all of his crew for an announcement.
“Listen up mates, I have some new information here for all of you that will be very helpful in disposing of our new guests. The Elves plan on searching the Cave of the Dead tomorrow at sunrise for the Palantiri and we’ll be waiting for them. I want advance scouts to go ahead and make sure the coast is clear before the rest of us go in.” That way, thought Marreth, we won’t get suck into any ambushes, even if it was a trap. “I don’t want any fighting yet, just spying. We have to know our enemy and evaluate them. I want to know how many they number and how many weapons they have. Maybe we can give them a little surprise. Any questions?”

Marreth always asked if there were any questions at the end, and there never were. He always told the crew exactly what they needed to know and they never dared to ask anything else, at least to his face. His officers would speak with him privately if they wished.

“Good. Everyone get a good night’s sleep and no getting drunk on rum. We all need to be fully alert tomorrow. I fear we have a rough day ahead of us.”

[piosenniel]

The ship was at rest, rocking a bit on the small waves that lapped toward the shore. Rôg thanked the fates for the respite from the normal motions of a ship on water and helped himself to a small, sweet treat that one of the Elves had put out for the gathered group. He was happy to see his old friend and guide, Bear, and motioned the man over with a wave of his mug held high in the air.

Bear’s normally ruddy face was rather pale as he came to stand by Rôg and his hands shook a bit as he accepted a mug of steaming tea from him. Rôg looked at him as he sipped his own drink, giving the man a chance to warm up before he spoke.

‘Something’s got the wind up you,’ commented Rôg as he poured the man a second cup of tea. ‘I’ve only see you like this once before – we were out on the ice fields far north of your village. You went very quiet, whispering to me.’ Bear nodded his head, the scene coming back to him. ‘I remember that,’ Bear said. ‘And I remember your own face when I told you that death itself was stalking us.’ The glimmer of a smile creased his face, then vanished. ‘Those were just the great Ice Bears who were trailing us that day . . . this is different.’ Bear shook his head in complete bafflement. ‘Why anyone would want to try a look in that cave is beyond me.’

‘Is it where you bury your dead?’ asked Rôg, trying to piece together the parts of the puzzle. ‘Do the spirits of your ancestors haunt the place?’

Bear snorted, choking on his tea at this question. ‘Spirits of the ancestors I could face. I’ve no bone to pick with them or they with me.’ He set his mug down on the table near him. ‘What I don’t want to hasten is joining those who have gone on! I’m far too young to be an ancestor! I’ve grown to relish my breathing if you catch my drift.’

‘Then what’s the problem?’ prodded Rôg.

Bear began to explain how treacherous the cave was. How the hill it was under sat on the edge of the bay and how the motion of the waters had eroded deeply into the interior of the hill. The opening was small, he went on, belying the enormity of the cave within. And much of it was half submerged beneath the waters, and more than half submerged when the tides came in at their fullest. It was dark within, of course, and fair piece of the way was iced – some places thinner than others. One could slip beneath the ice and not find a way back out. And worse yet the hill itself was of a crumbly sort of rock. Chunks were easily displaced within and without the cave, and if one were not careful, you could find yourself crushed by a rockslide. ‘In short,’ said Bear, summing up his opinion of the cave and of the Captain and Elder who had decided to attempt exploring it, ‘only fools would dare enter the cave!’

‘Well, the Captain’s no fool – but I’ll take your warning to heart. Perhaps we can talk this over in my cabin. Make some sort of plan to keep our group a little safer. What say you?’ Bear looked thoughtfully at Rôg, then spoke grimly. ‘The land here is unforgiving of the ignorant and the unprepared. I fear for us. We Lossoth will use all the skills that we have, but I cannot say it will be enough to keep us safe in the Great Cave.’

‘I have a few skills of my own,’ Rôg added, ‘and the Elves are not without some quick abilities. Let us work closely together and see how we fare.’ He rubbed his chin and shook his head at his next thought. ‘Far worse than the Great Cave will be the Corsairs should they retrieve those Stones the Captain spoke of. They are cruel men and will crush you as surely as any falling rock . . . the rock, though, will not relish your death as will they.’

Once Rôg had gotten Bear situated in his cabin, he begged off, saying he would return shortly. The Captain had asked to speak with him, and Rôg wanted to share what Bear had told him. He strode quickly down the companionway, passing Elves and Lossoth heading the opposite way to their quarters. In a few moments he stood before the Captain’s door. Rôg knocked lightly, calling in a low voice.

‘Luindal . . . are you there?’

[Child of the 7th Age]

Hearing a soft knock at the door accompanied by a familiar voice, Luindal glanced up from the piles of papers and maps he had been studying, which were still strewn haphazardly over his desk, "Come inside, Rôg. It's open. Please sit down." He gestured towards the seat opposite his own and noticed that his friend looked considerably better than the last time he'd seen him.

Luindal went immediately to the subject that was uppermost on both their minds. "The crew is concerned about tomorrow?"

"Yes, deeply concerned, and some are frightened, although they would never admit it." Rôg went on to explain some of the things Bear had shared with him concerning the cavern.

Luindal listened carefully to the description of the dangers and then suggested, "This Bear sounds as if he at least knows more than the rest of us. Perhaps he should be the one actually leading the party through the caverns as far as what path to take. I would gladly be led by someone who knows these parts better than I do."

"As far as the danger goes, he is certainly right. But Alahseey has told me that this is where the Elders feel the Stones would most likely be, half buried on the cave floor. Come have a look."

Luindal gestured towards two charts that were set side-by-side on his desk. "This one," the Elf explained, "is a copy of the map that Cirdan originally provided the ship that sailed to rescue Ardui. And here is the other that the Snowmen just gave me. See how much smaller the Bay is now. The Bay used to cover nearly all the caverns and hilly cliff, with only the topmost peak showing above the waterline. All that would have been iced over in early spring and it is possible that a ship could have been hurled against the cliffs and crushed.

The shape of the Bay is different today: the caverns are at the edge of the shore. They are relatively dry at low tide, especially with the drought we've had the past two years. Only when high tide occurs do large parts of the tunnels become flooded. The most important thing for us is to get in and out fairly quickly, or else we risk the danger of drowning, especially if the weather outside turns bad."


"I've tried to take every precaution I could think of. I am advising the men to wear small packs about their waist with food and water and to carry at least two torches and a rope. No packs on the back since these could catch on the low ceilings in the tunnels. We'll make sure to have flints in case the torches are gutted. And everyone will be wearing a metal helmet to protect their heads. I also understand that Freyn has some basic skills with healing. I've asked him to bring along his kit with herbs and splints should anything go wrong. I'll be carrying some Elvish herbs myself, but I think that the Snowmen's local remedies are probably better suited for the kind of things that might happen in a place like this."

"If you or Bear have any other ideas, I'd like to hear them as I am certainly no expert on caves."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rôg

‘Hmmm . . . I don’t think Bear will have any suggestions for you at present. By this time, he should be fast asleep. Poor felllow was as nervous as a sand rat catching sight of an owl shadow.’ Luindal’s brows went up at these last two disparate pieces of information. ‘And . . .?’ the Elf queried.

‘And . . . well . . . I gave him a nice strong cup of valerian tea with comfrey and some honey. Calmed him right down.’ Rôg glanced up at Luindal and shrugged his shoulders. ‘He was snoring, in fact, by the time I left the room.’

Rôg looked at the crudely drawn map that the Captain had made of the area they would be exploring when the morning came. It was a composite of the old elven map and the one the Lossoth had provided. ‘We should keep in close contact with each other in the caves. I had thought that perhaps I could keep the groups informed of each other’s presence. What do you think? I can use one of my little winged forms as needed.’

Luindal nodded his head at the suggestion. ‘I’ll tell the Lossoth and Elves that you’ll be doing this tomorrow just before we leave the ship.’ He grinned for a split second at Rôg. ‘Wouldn’t want to find one of them roasting the southron on a stick as a tasty tidbit for dinner.’

The bells that marked the beginning of the late night watch rung above, their soft tones carrying down the companion-way to alert those who would be next on duty. ‘I should take my leave of you,’ said Rôg. ‘The bells to wake us for tomorrow’s venture will ring all too soon.’ He paused at the entry way. ‘I did have some interesting thoughts which might prove useful whilst I was bent over the ship’s railing and observing the passage of the ship through the sea. I doubt we’ll need to implement any of them in the cave. But should that search prove fruitless and we have to consider searching beneath the waters of the bay, then I think they might aid us. Let me think on them a little more before I present them to you.’

The Elf turned back to his consideration of the maps as Rôg closed the door firmly behind him.

[Imladris]

Jarlyne

Jarlyne rolled his eyes and cocked his brows as Marreth finished his little speech. Short and to the point as always, which was the he liked it. As the sailors filed out, Jynne slinking along after them like a lingering shadow, he rounded on Marreth and said, "I do not believe this to be a good idea."

Marreth looked at him and said, "And why is that?"

Drat him. He could be so infuriating at times. "I would suppose that it is called the Cave of the Dead for a reason." He paused. "I am not a coward but I would prefer to keep my life. I have already had contact with the dead --" he shuddered, remember the eery wind of ice that had swept through him.

Marreth's face had gone tight and pale, and Jarlyne thought he could hear his teeth grind. He should not have mentioned their first experience with the dead...it was not a good thing to bring up sore subjects about the loss of one's father. He peered quickly at Marreth and then flicked them away, staring resolutely out the window.

"We must find the Stones," Marreth said shortly.

"Fine. If you want to join part of the reason why the cave is called The Cave of the Dead that is fine by me," Jarlyne said waspishly. "I suppose it's better to die this way instead of growing old and feeble."

~~~~~~~~~~

Jynne

His gangly legs straddling the yard, a needle with a tail of leather clenched between his yellowed teeth, Jynne examined the main topsail, fingering the cloth the wind had ripped in his fierce fury. He began to sew the tear together. His stitches were clumsy but that did not matter. An ill patched sail was better than a ripped sail that would betray them when the next storm swooped down upon them.

Shifting his eyes from his work, he froze when he saw Marreth stride down toward their boats and then, furthermore, stop to speak with one of those Snowmen. Yet, peering as closely as he could, Jynne could not recognize them.

He narrowed his eyes, creeping along the yard, letting the needle dangle from the sail.

What were they doing, what were they speaking about under the hiding of the clear sun as the other sailers worked to mend the ship. What esoteric passed between them?

Soon Marreth returned, a grim look upon his face. At his call for the crew, Jynne slipped down the mast, creeping in the feeble shadows toward the cabin.

Crouching in the corner, he peered at the captain and his faithful friend under his brows. The Caves of the Dead. A thin smile cracked his face. The Stones, if they did indeed exist, would be there more than likely.

As he slinked behind the others, his eyes flitted toward the bushes on the shore. What had the two been talking about?

[Lalwendë]

Tarn

As it dawned on Tarn that there was an elven ship heading for the shore, he instinctively reached inside his battered leather coat, feeling for the pocket he had roughly sewn into it, to hold his knives. They were still there. He did not trust elves. He did not trust anyone, but elves less than most, even though he had never met one. His grandfather had told him the old stories, and had told him not to trust anyone who cannot die. “It is not the way of things” he had said.

Tarn screwed up his eyes against the wind, straining to pick out the movements of the elven ship, working out whether it would attempt to come to shore nearby. He wanted to see what would happen, but he did not want to be seen himself. He bent down to the seals, still bobbing around in the water at his feet, and made a peculiar clicking noise. The sleek heads nodded farewell as one and disappeared under the water as they swam away.

“We’re going back,” he said to Thynne, but the lad did not move. “Shift it, come on.” snapped Tarn. Still the boy stared out to sea at the ship. Tarn was losing his patience and snatched the boy’s collar. “Did you hear me?” he said, bending down and staring into the lad’s eyes. Thynne jumped and started to run back to the stone hut near the cliffs, fearful that Tarn would catch up with him and punish him. He did not dare ask Tarn about the strange ship, and whether it was more Corsairs arriving.

***

Thynne’s father had left the warmth of the hut. “He’s probably gone in search of more ale, so you may as well make yourself useful while I go out again, and if you do what I want, then you might get some of that stew” said Tarn, pointing at a large cooking pot next to the hearth. “But mark me, I know exactly how many pieces of Reindeer meat there are in that pot and if I get back and your work isn’t done, and you’ve eaten, then you’ll see trouble.”

Tarn left the lad a pile of fishing nets to be mended, and went back outside. From his storehouse next door he took a pair of snow shoes and his harpoon, strapping them to his back, in case he might need them. He then covered his hands with the dust from a piece of chalk and wiped the powder around his face, whitening it. He pulled his wolfskin cloak tightly around his shoulders, securing it at the waist with a crude leather belt, and covered his head with a white fur hood. Watching through a crack in the door, Thynne found it hard to make Tarn out against the rocks as he strode away.

***

Some hours later, Tarn remained on watch from behind the cairn of granite he used as a vantage point over the bay. The weather had now subsided, and as often happens after a storm, the air was bright and he had a clear view of what was going on below. He could even smell the food cooking.

Tarn had seen the Lossoth boats making for the elven ship and watched as they boarded. He felt a knot of anger in his stomach and wished he could hear what was being said. He supposed some kind of plot was afoot and guessed that the Corsairs might have seen this and come up with a plan themselves. Moving from his hiding place he edged down the scree slope which fell away from the cairn and found his way to the path which ran down the cliffs. Stopping at the bottom of the slope, he turned the wolfskin cloak and the hood inside out, and spitting on his gloves, wiped them across his face to remove the chalk. He was determined to find out what was happening and thought he might hear something interesting close to the Corsair ship.

[Rinfanawen]

Diera stood calmly, yet eagerly as well as she listened intently to Marreth's speech. The violent storm halted for the moment. Only the lingering sound of crashing waves against a battered ship could be heard, alongside her captain's powerful voice.

“The Elves plan on searching the Cave of the Dead tomorrow at sunrise for the Palantiri and we’ll be waiting for them,” said Marreth during his brief address to the crew.

Splendid... Diera thought. She could feel her fingers tighten with excitement as she thought of the pleasures of spying on a group of Elves. The most despicable creatures in Middle Earth, they are: she thought in hatred. so powerful and yet, so foolish.

“This is going to be fun,” Diera whispered to her fellow shipmate, Doyal, who stood beside her. Doyal nodded in agreement and quickly turned his attention back to Marreth. Diera did the same. The speech ended quite abruptly, as did most of Marreth’s speeches, and the crew dismissed throughout the ship. Diera stood for a while on deck thinking of the future plans. The thought of entering the Cave of the Dead chilled her bones, for she much despised the thought of stepping foot on that land again, but into a cave? She shuttered at the thought. Nevertheless, she was determined to get to the Palantiri first.

Diera was silent as she turned towards the shore. The Elven ship was within her vision, but she tried to forbid herself from looking at it. Each time she looked upon the curved formations and graceful details of the enemy vessel, she longed more and more for it to be the next day...the day the Elves go in the cave. She needed to be ready. She had to make sure that nothing would go wrong, that their plan would continue without a flaw.

Suddenly she was pulled from her concentrated state of mind by a tug on her sleeve. “Diera, you are needed on the starboard side,” said Doyal.

Diera nodded and began to follow Doyal across the ship, but as she did, she heard an interesting conversation taking place nearby. She could not see whom the voices belonged to. The only sight was a bit of swaying white fur from a coat of some sort above a few barrels that had been stacked on the deck. A mischievous smile crossed Diera’s face. The voices continued, and Diera made her way towards the barrels.

The voices clearly belonged to her captain and co-officer, Jarlyn. Diera bent just low enough behind the barrels so she could peer through the small gaps between them, without being seen herself. She listened carefully to the words being spoken.

“I am not a coward but I would prefer to keep my life,” said Jarlyn to Marreth. “I have already had contact with the dead—”

The words were cut off, and Diera new the reason. Clearly, Jarlyn opposed the idea of going into the cave, and who wouldn’t? Such a dreadful place it was. Any being in their right mind would not even consider entering the Cave of the Dead. The conversation continued.

“We must find the Stones,” Marreth said shortly.

”Fine. If you want to join part of the reason why the cave is called The Cave of the Dead that is fine by me,” Jarlyn said waspishly. “I suppose it's better to die this way instead of growing old and feeble.”

Ha! thought Diera. That’s what he thinks! I would much rather die old and feeble, as long as I was old and feeble aboard a ship...but to die in the Cave of the Dead? That would be horrible! It would be terrible! It would be...well, if it happens, then I guess it happens. Either way, we must get to those stones before the Elves lay their filthy hands on them. Suddenly a horrendous thought entered her mind. Who would be going ashore to spy on them? Surely, he would not choose me, Diera thought in almost complete confidence. Already I have suffered enough by being placed on land, but... She closed her eyes in disgust. If I must, if need calls for me to enter the cave, then so be it.

Seeing that the overheard conversation was coming to an end, Diera quickly left her position on the ground and made her way to the Starboard side of the ship. She would see Marreth about placement orders at another time.

[Kitanna]

Nilak

The storm had died down somewhat and the captain had called everyone on deck. Nilak and Sernir stood on the boat deck listening to Marreth. "The Elves plan on searching the Cave of the Dead tomorrow at sunrise for the Palantiri and we’ll be waiting for them." Sernir nodded in approval at this.

Nilak personally had nothing against these elven intruders, but if they robbed him of any amount of treasure he would make it a personal thing. However Nilak was not prepared to go into the Cave of the Dead. That place meant doom for anyone who dared to enter.

"Maybe we can give them a little surprise. Any questions?” No one said anything. It was usually better not to ask questions about these things. However in the back of Nilak's mind he thought, what was so important about these Stones that the Corsairs and Elves were willing to lose everything?

Sernir leaned over and spoke to Nilak, "Be prepared for an early start tomorrow, Lossoth. You are going into that cave."

"Some places get their names for a reason. I think the Cave of the Dead is one of those places." Nilak cast a spiteful glance over to Sernir. Maybe you should go into the cave, Corsair, he thought.

"You're not paid to think." Sernir spat back. "You're paid to find those stones and bring them back to me. Now go get some rest, you'll be worthless if you're tired tomorrow."

Nilak wanted to stay and argue, but he knew Sernir was right. He nodded to Sernir and headed off to get a good night's sleep. He would need as much energy as possible for the next day.

[Lalwendë]

Tarn

The pathway down to where the Corsairs had moored their great ship was cut closely into the cliffs and was slippery in places, but Tarn knew the dangers well, and he passed down the steps as swiftly and silently as an otter. As he neared the bottom, he saw the Captain, Marreth, boarding the ship and drew himself back against the cliff face, where he was hid in a crack of the dark, slimy rock. He wanted to know what was going on, but he didn’t want to be drawn into anything against his will.

The Captain was gathering the crew together on the deck, and to his surprise, Tarn spotted Nilak among them. His eyes narrowed. Nilak was as much a scoundrel as he was, and they would normally have kept out of the way of each other, but they had crossed paths often lately, as both had become involved with the Corsairs. Nilak was a strong man who intimidated the Lossoth with his reputation as a ship wrecker, and he had a great thirst for wealth. Tarn admired his nerve, but he would never have admitted this. Tarn’s reputation was built on his disdainful manner which led him to think he could get away with almost anything, and there were some Lossoth who dared not even make eye contact with this large, arrogant man. Nilak was one of those who did dare.

“What is that limpet doing here?” hissed Tarn to himself. Over the crashing of the waves, he couldn’t quite make out what the Captain was saying, but whatever it was, it did not take him long, and the crew turned away with uncertain looks on their faces. He had only made out the words “elves”, “spying” and “enemy”. As he puzzled over this he spotted Nilak leaving the ship, and drawing one of his knives into his sleeve, he stepped out onto the path.

“There’s a little mission to do with these elves going ahead I gather, Nilak,” he said, raising his eyebrows. If Nilak was taken aback by Tarn suddenly materialising from the cliffs, he did not show it. Tarn’s plan had worked, and instead of attacking or ignoring him, Nilak had motioned him to follow. As they walked back, Nilak had told Tarn about the elves’ plan to search the House of the Dead, which had made Tarn snort with sarcastic laughter. But when Tarn heard that the Corsairs were planning to go down there and spy on the elves he stopped smiling. Nilak told him that he was going down there himself, at first light, and Tarn did not say anything for some time.

As they neared the path which led to Tarn’s hut, he had decided. “I’m coming along with you. I’m not afraid of that place. It’s only an old man’s story. A lie. There has to be something in there to make up something like that to keep us out.” He did not really believe what he was saying, but he wanted to convince himself that he did, for he was determined to find out what would happen, and determined not to let anything prevent him from finding this treasure. At the crossroads they parted, and agreed to meet up by the Corsair ship at daybreak, to join in the spying mission. Whatever that would entail, neither knew, and neither dared say.

Tarn entered the stone hut to find Thynne asleep, the fire down to its embers and only half the nets mended. He did not check the pot to see if Thynne had eaten, as he had now forgotten his threat, but it was no matter, as he was angry enough about the unmended nets. He angrily piled wood into the hearth, and as he did so a thought formed in his mind. The lad could be useful if any of the spying came to involve entering the caves, and it would also be his punishment. Tarn nodded to himself spitefully, and instead of waking the lad, left him asleep, and climbed up the ladder to his own bed in the loft, taking the pot of stew with him.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Orofaniel's post for Galhardir & Rodhal

“Uncle!” Rodhal whispered in his uncle’s ears. “You must wake up,” he then continued. The child’s voice was as comforting to wake up too as a singing bird. Galhardir’s eyes opened slowly as he looked the boy. “I’ve overslept!” he sighed. “Indeed, uncle,” Rodhal then giggled. “Annû and Carandû, the two nice elves, just went out on deck,” he continued. “We must hurry then!” Galhardir then exclaimed.

“Not I, uncle, I’m ready; you must hurry!” Rodhal then said, acting like an adult. “Right you are young lad,” Galhardir said, glancing over at him as he got fully dressed. Then suddenly, Galhardir remembered yesterday evening’s conversation with the elves; the cave of the dead.

Was it responsible of him to bring little Rodhal to such a place when he could hardly speak of it in front of him? Galhardir thought about this awhile and an unpleasant feeling overcame him. No, he couldn’t do it, he said to himself. He couldn’t dare bring his nephew into such danger, especially when he knew all those tales that had been told of old. It was simply something he wouldn’t do to the boy; he loved him too much. And what would his parents say if they knew? His brother, Gonlahr would never forgive him. Galhardir couldn’t risk it. Besides, the only reason his brother, Rodhal’s father had let his son come with Galhardir was because he trusted him. Galhardir didn’t want to loose that trust by doing something as stupid as this.

Galhardir had made his decision; Rodhal would have to stay at the ship as he was too young to come with them. It was his final decision.

“Rodhal, please wait here while I…” he didn’t know how to finish his sentence so he just disappeared out the door. Rodhal didn’t notice and stayed where he was.

Galhardir then walked with stern steps towards Luindal, who was still in his cabin and greeted him politely. “Greeting to you too sir,” Galhardir then said, bowing. “I would inform you that Rodhal, my nephew will of course, not be joining us,” His hands were sweating. Although he was sure Luindal would agree, he wouldn’t want to see the disappointment in Rodhal’s eyes.

“Of course!” Luindal said, looking at him gravely;” It would be folly to take such a young lad to such a place,” he then continued. My words exactly, Galhardir thought. “Aye, sir,” Galhardir nodded.

“Then I guess, we should be ready..” Luindal said. “The boy may stay at the ship in the cabin,” he said, but hesitated; ”If he wants to, he can climb up to the lookout tower and keep an eye on what is going on around the ship,” Lunidal then said smiling. “Aye sir, thanks. I think he’d like that,” Galhardir said. He was very grateful for Luindal’s kindness. Now Rodhal would have some adventure to go on while he was away,

“Thanks again sir,” Galhardir then said. “I’ll go inform the boy and then go on deck to board the boat,” he said looking at the boats that were almost ready to go.

“Alright, but hurry, the boats are leaving any moment now.

Galhardir didn’t know how to tell Rodhal this, but some way or another he just had to explain to the boy that this was for his own best. He slipped inside the door and met the eyes of Rodhal.

“Well, boy…” he started. “It is best if you stay here at the ship while the elves and our kin leave for the cave,” he then continued. “But while we’re away you are allowed to climb to the outlook post a…” the boy interrupted; ”Of course uncle…you didn’t expect me to go inside the cave?!” The boy exclaimed. Galhardir was stunned by these words and gazed upon the young lad. “It’s too dangerous for me. I’m not old enough…besides, I don’t think papa would appreciate that…” he said innocently.

Galhardir admitted that he was surprised by these words, but very comforted and happy. “Oh…Of course,” he then said, pretending that he’d never had the intention of brining him along. “I’ll wander about the ship…” the boy said dreamily. “Alright then…” Galhardir then muttered. “I’ll be expecting to see a new captain on the ship the when I return,” Galhardir then said merrily, returning to his calm, relaxed and merry mood. Even though he was about to face something he knew would be dangerous he wasn’t worried. Rodhal would at least be safe.

“Uncle…you must hurry now,” Rodhal then reminded him. “Of course,” Galhardir then said, giving the boy a hug. He didn’t even bother to remind him to be a “good boy” as he knew Rodhal would act more responsible than he would in the next couple of hours.

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

[Child of the 7th Age]

The first rays of the morning sun were still below the horizon when Luindal wearily stood up from his papers and charts to put on a fresh change of clothes. He heard a knock on the door and found the Lossoth Gallhardir waiting to speak with him. They had both agreed that his young nephew would be better off staying on board the ship.

Although most Elves require little if any sleep, Luindal found that he usually did much better if he had at least a few hours to rest and relax his mind. However, that was a luxury he could ill afford at the moment. After his conversation with Rôg, he had stubbornly sat up all night working on a series of his own notes on how and where to search for the Stones at the bottom of the Bay. There were still so many problems he couldn't figure out. He'd need to have another long talk with Rôg and see if the shapechanger had any more good ideas.

If the palantiri did not show up in the Caverns of the Dead, they would have little choice but to shift the focus of their search. Alahseey had made it clear that all the other likely spots along the fringes of the Bay had been thoroughly searched by the Corsairs. It made little sense to redo what was already done.

Luindal felt his hours of work had barely scratched the surface of the many complications they would have to deal with if the Stones failed to turn up in the Caverns. But at least a start had been made. He went over, scooped up his papers, and placed them inside a locked chest that he always carried along on voyages. As he was about to leave the room, Hilde came in and graciously offered him heated cider, which he took. He listened absentmindedly as the serving woman explained how she had stowed the new supplies away and would straighten out his room and prepare the evening meal while he and his men were away on their search. At leaat there was one less thing to worry about.

Stopping to strap on his waist pack, retrieve his pick axe, and put on a metal helmet, Luindal went out on deck and saw that a number of Elves and Lossoth were already gathered there wearing similar gear. Soon they would climb down the ladders and enter the small boats that were to head towards the cave. The tide was low. Focusing on the shore, he glimpsed a wide expanse of beach spread out in front of the Cavern. They should have enough time to split up in small groups to make a preliminary survey of the tunnels and the main cavern before returning safely to the ship.

He had assigned almost thirty Snowmen and Elves to the survey party. The remaining ten were to stay behind on the Spirit to make sure that there was no mischief done to the ship during their absence.

Standing in front of his volunteers, Luindal beckoned for them to move closer so they could hear what he was saying,. He spoke quietly trying to address the unspoken fears that he could see in many of their eyes. "Today, we begin our search for the missing Stones. There are two words I want everyone to engrave upon their hearts: caution and swiftness. At this early point in our hunt, no one is to take any unnecessary risks. If we have any doubts about the safety of a particular path or tunnel, we will hold back from going that way. Secondly, we must work with all due haste. Our great enemy is time. As long as the tide stays low, we will be able to make our way back out of the tunnel. When the waters come rushing onto the beach and seeping up from underneath into the tunnels, then we are in great danger. So we will be very careful about when we leave the tunnels. There must be no stragglers."

"Split up in small groups: at least two or three in each group. No one is to search alone. Respect this cave as a dangerous place and you will come out alive. Let us move quietly now while it is still dark for the Corsairs have no idea where we go or what we do. "

"We also have another advantage of which the Corsairs are yet unaware. As some of you know, Rôg has some unusual abilities in shape shifting. While we are inside the cave, he has agreed to shift into a small winged form and keep the different groups in touch with each other. So please, if you note a large insect or bat buzzing at your ear, take due care not to injure it!"

With that final word of instruction, the men slipped into their boats and began paddling silently towards the shore. The vessels were left hidden in a side cove with fishing nets and gear prominently displayed so no one would suspect anything. Then they walked the final mile towards the cave. The Caverns of the Dead were set about a quarter mile from the spot where the Corsair ship was docked. As they approached the entrance of the cave, Luindal could see that the opening was small, too small for any Elf or man to stand. They would need to attach the ropes to their waists and crawl one-by-one into the first tunnel.

[Imladris]

Jynne peered from under his scraggling eyebrows over the bow spirit, trying to see if he could see the mysterious Snowman. His eyes dropped to narrow slits as he saw him lumbering off as fast as he could toward the inland.

What had the two been talking about? What if Marreth was going to do a double deal? Jynne buttoned his lips and narrowed his eyes so that they were almost closed.

Turning on his heel, he crept towards the cabin and knocked tentatively, then pushed the door open and slipped into the cabin, closing the door carefully behind him.

Jarylin's mouth snapped shut and his lips formed a straight line. Jynne's face stretched into a small smile. His eyes studying the the portion of the wall behind Marreth's shoulder, he said sofly, "Did my captain ask for an advance scout? I glady offer my services..."

[Regin Hardhammer]

Regin Hardhammer's post

Marreth fixed a steady eye on Jynne, carefully weighing the words the man had spoken. It was true that he had asked for advance scouts to spy on Luindal. Jynne did seem to have a gift for slinking quietly about with no one the wiser for his presence. Yet the Corsair captain did not know the man well and he preferred his advance spies be sailors he absolutely trusted.

Carefully pondering his dilemma, Marreth decided on a course of action, "Jynne, I would welcome your presence in the advance scouts. But you must go under the leadership of Diera and follow all her commands. She is a trusted comrade of mine and has been on many secret missions. You can learn much from her for she has my trust." With that he bade Jynne good bye and retired to his bed for the night.


*********

The next morning long before dawn had broken, Marreth led a group of about twelve men to a hidden grove that lay less than a quarter of a mile from the cave. He quickly explained what would happen, “Eight of you will stay here while you wait for the signal to go ahead. But I have chosen a few advance scouts who will venture into the cave now to make sure that there is no ambush waiting for us. Jynne and Diera will go as a team. Also Tarn and Nilak."

The two Snowmen looked surprised to hear their names called. "Yes, that's right. I want you two as well," Marreth snapped. "You know the terrain far better than my own men. I will be watching you closely to see how you do. If you desire rich rewards and a measure of my trust, pay close attention to how you act!"

"You four will go ahead and look around. If everything is clear, flash the lantern three times.”

Marreth watched as the two Corsairs and two Snowmen went off to the cave. Then he turned to the rest. “Hook, you're in charge of this group for the moment. When the lantern signal comes, you will all advance. Now remember, only spying. We want to know our enemy so that we can learn how to defeat them. The fighting will come later. Steak out hiding places in the cave and we will wait for the Elves to show up.”

"Meanwhile I have decided to do a little advance spying of my own." With those curt words, Marreth suddenly disappeared. He slipped silently through the woods and lowered himself into the small hole that was the only entrance to the cave. Once inside, he could see it was a very large and dark cave with jagged rocks everywhere and tunnels shooting off from the main hall. Once or twice Marreth tore a piece of his cloak on a jagged rock, but he paid no mind. He was focused on picking a good spying spot. Once he picked one behind a rock just off the main cavern, he crouched down behind it and waited, not making a sound.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kitanna's post

Nilak was on the deck of the ship listening to Marreth barking orders at them. Tarn was not standing that far from him. Nilak gave him a quick nod to acknowledge his presence. Standing on his left side was Sernir. The Corsair seemed rather happy this morning. Nilak could only guess why.

“Jynne and Diera will go as a team. Also Tarn and Nilak." Marreth said. Sernir had mentioned Nilak going into the cave, but he didn't think he had been serious.

Nialk looked over at Sernir, who ignored him. This was most likely his idea. Nilak looked over to Tarn next. The other Lossoth seemed just as, if not more annoyed then Nilak. Sernir pulled Nilak close to whisper something to him. "Don't mess this up."

Nilak narrowed his eyes and snarled slightly at Sernir as he followed behind Tarn and the two Corsairs. Nilak did not trust these Corsairs. He figured they were all as loathesome as Sernir. Though he never would have admitted it, Nilak was relieved that Tarn would go into the caves. He was not very friendly with Tarn, but at least he was another Lossoth and not a Corsair.

~*~*~

Once in the cave the four split up. The Corsairs went together and Tarn went with Nilak. Tarn made sure they had the lantern and the Corsairs. As they moved along Tarn put Nilak first since Nilak did not really have to worry about banging his head.

Every now and again Nilak would turn back and see Tarn ducking or struggling through the sandy cave floor. Beads of sweat were on his brow. Nilak could not understand how anyone could possibly be hot in the cave. He was freezing, even under his many layers of clothes.

Each time Nilak stopped he could hear Tarn draw the air in between his teeth. “I’m just a little out of breath” Nilak did not really believe him. If Tarn was scared, Nilak could understand why. Who knew what dangers lurked in this cave?

Nilak finally came to a little alcove in the cave. He shined the light in to have a better look. Both Lossoths could fit inside, but they would be cramped. Nilak got down on his hands and knees and went into the alcove. "We can hide and watch from here, I think." Tarn came in behind him. In the lantern light the two could see their breaths. "Yes, this is a good spot."

[piosenniel]

Bear was in one of the first boats to land on the muddy shingle that served for a beach in front of the cave. At Rôg’s request, though the day’s light was coming on, he lit a small covered lantern and made his way to the cave entrance. ‘We’ll go in first, he said, a sweeping gesture of his hand taking in Rôg, who stood next to him. ‘Rôg will take a little look-see to scout out any immediate dangers in the main cavern while I see what I can from just inside the entrance with my light.’

With a shrug, Rôg’s form became smaller until only a small brown, furred thing, less than four inches long, lay on top the mud at Bear’s feet. There were gasps as the small animal, a little brown bat (http://www.extension.umn.edu/yardandgarden/YGLNews/images/littlebrownbat.jpg) , flew up; and dipping one wing to Bear, flew quickly in to the small cave entrance. Bear followed, his lantern hanging from his belt, as he crawled through the small opening and into the small tunnel.

It was only a few short feet to the interior where the tunnel opened up into a large cavern. It was tall enough for the Lossoth to move about in, but barely, and there were other tunnels leading off it to smaller caverns still. Bear opened the hood to the lantern and cast the light about in the darkness. The water had retreated from the cave with the tide, leaving the silted rock floor slippery with the remaining damp. The Elves and Lossoth would need to be careful of there footing as they walked along. There would be plenty of chances to slip and injure oneself on the rough edged rocks that had tumbled from the cavern’s ceiling.

From where he stood near the main cavern’s entrance he could see numerous little openings to the other small caverns that honeycombed along this section of the Bay. He watched as Rôg flew rapidly toward the openings and darted in and out of them, checking that they were open. After a fair space of time, the little bat returned to the main cavern, and flew out the exit to where the others of the group waited. Bear followed. Changing back to his mannish form, both Rôg and Bear gave a brief report on what they’d seen. Of the thirteen tunnels he had flown into, four were blocked by fallen rock and built up, hardened silt. The others opened into small caverns that tilted downward from the main cavern – in some rocks partially blocked the way, but could be squeezed by. And there would be a need to be out of there before the tide came in fully – as these caverns were most likely completely submerged at high tide. Bear nodded his head in agreement, saying the waterline in the main cavern was nearly to the top of it, and that would mean that the tunnel into it would be completely filled with water when the tide came up.

The Men and Elves listened closely to the two scouts. Then, securing their torches and flints boxes in their belts, they tied their ropes about their waists and went in toward the darkness, taking care to stay close to their companions in the search.

[Arry]

“Well, would you look at that!” Annû’s eyes went wide as Rôg’s form crumpled down into a small brown bundle of fur. “He’s hardly as wide as my hand!” Carrandû, too, was taken aback, saying, “And here I thought he was just some hapless Second Born that the Captain met in Gondor. A skinchanger . . .”

The two brothers were in the middle of the group waiting to go in. They had agreed that once they entered the main cavern they would rope themselves together along with whoever else might choose to join them. “Just remember to leave about six feet of rope between us, brother mine,’ laughed Carrandû as they reached the entrance to the tunnel. “I don’t relish the thought of you kicking mud in my face as we crawl through those other tunnels.” “Too bad we bear the curse of the Eldar,” his brother replied, winking. “Curse?” asked Carrandû as he knelt to begin the crawl into the main cavern. He could hear his brother laughing softly behind him. “The Curse . . . of being so tall, brother! Were we Hobbits this would not be such a back breaking task for us.”

“Were we Hobbits,’ Carrandû reminded him, “we would not be here. We’d be in some snug little Inn, our feet propped in front of the fire. A mug of good ale in one fist, and a pipe in the other.” Carrandû emerged into the cavern and stood up as best he could, helping his brother up as he emerged. “Though why they enjoy that noxious smoke is beyond me.”

The two brothers moved to one side of the tunnel entrance to make way for the others. Annû pulled a torch from his belt while his brother fumbled in his pocket for the flint to light it. “Hurry,” whispered Annû. “I can barely make out a thing in here – save for the lights of the others as they move off toward the other tunnels.”

Their now lit torch throwing a small puddle of flickering light on the floor as they held it before them, the two rope-linked figures moved off toward one of the tunnels that no one had looked into as yet . . .

[Niluial]

“I’m not too sure about this” Andtuariel muttered to Elwë. Her face was slightly white, though it had lost the greenish tint of sea sickness.

Elwë reached over and gently tucked one of Andtuariel’s brown curls behind her ear. “It will be just fine if you follow the instructions and stick with me!” Elwë said bravely. He liked to act as if he was brave, put on a strong face but he too was worried. What could happen inside there? What if something bad happens?

Andtuariel giggled nervously, “Yes Sir!” she said with her tongue in her cheek. She looked at the sea and the small waves that hit her feet. The sea was blue and clear, calm and silent in the wake of the storm. Elwë locked eyes with Andtuariel one more time, giving her a look of assurance.

There was a nervous yet excited silence, which was broken by a sudden, “Well, would you look at that!” Annû’s said. Elwë chuckled quietly and looked in the direction where Annû was looking; a small brown bundle of fur lay there. It was clear that a few were surprised they had a skinchanger amongst them.

Elwë and Andtuariel stayed behind Carrandû and Annû as they walked through the dark tunnel. It was so silent inside the tunnel, the breathing of the others could be heard and every footstep too. The little lights of the others bounced up and down, imitating their movement as they walked.

Andtuariel drifted beside him. He smiled. They were not afraid of the Cave, though he could feel the fear of those ahead of them. They had no fear of death.

A rock clattered loose and hurtled somewhere in the darkness. A harsh ringing filled the cave. Beside him, Elwë could feel the cave walls tremble.

Andtuariel stumbled and clutched onto Elwë. Elwë’s heart jolted. “Andtuariel!” Elwë hissed.

“What?” she whispered. "The rock fell loose above and it fell on my head...then I stumbled over a crag."

"I'm sorry...but don't grab at me...or breathe down my neck...let me go!"

Slowly she let go of his hand.

[Imladris]

Jynne propped his chin onto the back of his hands and peered down at the elves and Snowmen. He was curled like a snake upon a solid ledge of rock. There was about a half inch distance between him and the top of the cave.

A spider crawled down his ankle, but he barely noticed the tickling of its legs as it minced upon his blotchy skin. A ghosted wind brushed his hollow cheek. His lips curled into a sneer.

Above him the cave shuddered, and a chunk of rock hurtled from a ledge. It struck the elf wench, causing her to stumble. His eyes narrowed. The Snowmen in front of them stopped, drew closer together, fidgeted together, muttering together.

The caves shuddered. The restless spirits of their dead had gathered together, warning the intruders back. Never trust that the dead were fully dead. They could surprise with their ever remaining presence. For the dead never truly left. There was always a bleached, yellowed bone crumbling in the dirt, a wasted spirit. A prophecy that the same fate awaited all witless mortals.

They were afraid of these caves. Very afraid. The caves were treacherous. He smiled.

[Lalwendë]

Tarn

When Tarn had risen he had found that the boy, Thynne, had disappeared. Though he had searched in and around the hut for some time, all the while bellowing at the top of his lungs for him, there was no sign of the lad. He had soon become furious and was about to set off and look for him elsewhere when he remembered he had promised to be at the cave for the spying. Grabbing some equipment from the storehouse, he locked the door to the hut and set off at a run. If the lad came back, he thought, then he could just sit out here in the freezing cold. On the shoreline some time later he was trying to think what might have happened to Thynne instead of listening to the Corsair Captain.

“Jynne and Diera will go as a team. Also Tarn and Nilak."

Tarn raised his eyebrows at hearing his name and then stared the captain in the eye angrily. He had been planning to worm his way out of having to go into the caves. Some spying from the cliffs was more what he had in mind. He was about to say something to the Captain when more orders were barked out and he swallowed the retort.

“Yes, that's right. I want you two as well," Marreth snapped. "You know the terrain far better than my own men. I will be watching you closely to see how you do. If you desire rich rewards and a measure of my trust, pay close attention to how you act!"

Tarn turned to Nilak, who he thought looked equally annoyed. Tarn rolled his eyes, sneered and with a sigh he set off behind the two Corsair scouts. He didn’t want to appear as a coward in front of this great Captain, but he didn’t want him to think he was a pushover, an easy target. As he walked he pulled on an old helmet that he taken from his storehouse as he had left the hut. This was an item that the seals had found a few years back and it had lain in the storehouse since, unsold. The helmet was smooth and made of some type of metal which did not appear to rust - it was not iron, and Tarn had been unable to decide what it could have been forged from, or where it had come from. For this reason he had kept it, as he could not put a price on the item, but he had thought of it last night as he lay in bed.

The female Corsair officer looked at him quizzically as they stopped at the cave entrance. Thinking she might be appraising him rather than the helmet, Tarn raised an eyebrow and smiled, revealing his white teeth, but the officer sneered and turned her back on him. The man, Jynne, glared at him disdainfully but Tarn just stared at him, his arms folded. “Let the worm try me“, he thought, “he doesn’t look like he could take me down.”

***

Any feelings of animosity or mistrust were soon forgotten as the four entered the cave and split up to take up their hiding posts. Tarn and Nilak had made sure that they had the lantern, and once they had signalled to the others, they went away, trying to look confident. Tarn was sure-footed but in here his feet kept sinking into the sodden, sandy floor of the cave, slowing his progress and he moved cautiously, bending low where there was no need, so fearful was he of banging his head. Nilak moved more easily being the shorter of the two, and Tarn decided to follow him.

The air was cold; in the scant glow of the lantern Tarn could see his breath condensing, but he felt hot and sweat was trickling down his brow. Each time they halted, he took a deep breath, sucking the air between his teeth and then slowly breathing out, to steady his nerves. “I’m just a little out of breath” he said to Nilak. He did not want him to think he was troubled by the place.

As he crept along, Tarn alternated between holding his hands about his coat, to prevent it catching on any rocks and send them tumbling, and stretching them gently out to feel for hazards. He started wondering when Nilak would find them a hiding place as he did not want to go too much further from the open air. It was not the rumour of spirits which was foremost in his mind, but the oppressive weight of rock above his head, and the possibility of being trapped, to be engulfed by the rushing of choking waters. Like many of the Lossoth, he had seen people fall beneath the ice, never to return, and it was a sight which never left his nightmares. Tarn liked the space of the cliffs and the shore, the wind and the rain. This swallowing darkness was making Tarn experience terror for the first time in many long years.

[Orofaniel]

Galhardir

Goliardic now found himself just inside one of the tunnels, following the two eleven brothers Annû and Carandû, who Galhardir now considered as his friends. The merry elves had invited him along as they had seen he was just on his own; no one was to venture the cave alone, Luindal had made that perfectly clear, which was understandable.

The tree of them started to walk the narrow path that followed. This was definitely not a place for Rodhal, Galhardir thought as he lifted his head upwards. His eyes caught small glimpses of rocks and stones as the light of the torch he bore came over them. "How are we going to find anything in such darkness?" Annû then said. He made a reasonable point by asking that, Galhardir figured, because it would indeed be very difficult. "We've just got to look, I guess," said Carandû and shrugged. Galhardir nodded, although he knew none of them would notice it as he walked behind the other two.

The next steps were slippery and Galhardir could hardly keep himself on his feet. He supported himself to the rocky wall, but to no use, as he found it to edgy to touch. A splint cut his hand slightly, and he could feel the hot blood flowing from the mall wound. He let out a short gasp. "Are you alright, back there?" Annû asked as he turned. The small company stopped for a little while; "Aye, just a scratch," Galhardir replied as it was too dark for him to see the actual wound.

"Lets continue," Galhardir then said, holding his torch forwards so that he could see the faces of Annû and Carandû. "Aye," Annû and Carandû said at the same time, both turning forwards starting their march. "Hold on," Carandû then said seizing Annû's arm. "What is the matter?" he asked and turned once again. Galhardir was also curious about that. "Look!" Carandû then said. "I think there is another passage there!" he continued, seeming quite enthusiastic about his discover. The three of them held their torches together in the direction Carandû pointed; there was indeed another passage there. "Lets give it a try," Ann*u then said. Galahardir hesitated a little, but followed them. "I think it leads to another cavern," Galhardir then said. "Right you are, Galhardir," Annû said, who saw everything before the two others as he walked in the front.

*******

Rodhal

As he'd watched his uncle and the others leave for the boats he had felt the slight of disappointment and misery. Not because he wasn't able to come with them, but because his uncle had gone alone without him. Usually they'd go on adventures together. He figured this was an adventure for adults only, as he could se no other child following them. He waved from the deck as he heard his uncle voice telling him to be a good Captain while they were gone.

Rodhal didn't know for how long they had been gone but it couldn't have been long, as he hadn't had the time yet to climb up to the look out tower. He didn't know if dared, as it was pretty high. He wondered if his uncle would have managed to climb up there.

He went across the deck and decided to give it a try. There wasn't much wind only a light breeze, so the weather would not be problem for him. He sized the lower part of the mast and began climbing. His hands were sweaty, but the grip was stern. His skinny body went up....up...up. Half way up the top he looked down. What a frightful sight, he thought. It was a long way down, and still a long way up. What if he fell? No, he doubted it, but admitted that the height frightened him a little.

He continued upwards, climbing steadily, until he reached the top. Finally he had reached the top. He found himself standing in the small outlook post. It was big enough for him though. He looked own once again as he had done before. The deck, the cabin.... It was such a long way down. He shuddered, but he knew he was safe. Much safer here than in the cave of the dead, he said to himself – that was for sure.

What a perfect view for a young lad like himself....

[Child of the 7th Age]

As they emerged from the narrow passageway, Luindal led the main group of Elves and Lossoth towards the middle of the first cavern. The Elves' footsteps echoed eerily as they silently made their way through the passage. There was a blackness in the cave that was a hundred times darker than the deepest forest glade on a night with no moon. If only, mused Luindal, we had brought a dwarf with us, preferably one who likes cold weather and could swim. He would feel at home here. But it was no use dwelling on what might have been. They'd need to do the best that they could with the people and equipment they had.

Reminding the group of the purpose of their mission, he then suggested their next step: "We must scour the floor of the cave, as well as any ledges and crannies to search for the Stones. We probably won't be so lucky to have them laid out in full view. More likely, they will be buried in mud and silt with only a portion of the Stone showing above."

"Remember too that each of the Stones is different. The Stone of Annúminas is small, no more than twelve inches across. The Stone of Amon Sûl is so large that it will take more than one of us to lift it. Both will be shaped like globes, and made of black crystal. Still, if we find one, the other likely won't be far off."

With that, Luindal got to his knees, staked out his torch beside him, and began to feel very slowly with his hands amid the mud and silt, searching for any objects that were hard and round. He explained what he was doing. "Let's comb the floor of the main cavern first. If you find anything of hard crystal, dark in color and half buried in the mud, then let me know and we'll get someone to help you dig so we can see have a look at it. After searching this cavern, if nothing turns up, we may need to split up to explore the side tunnels. "

"But if you do find anything, use you hands, your pick axes too if that's needed--only gently. And please, no dawdling. I don't care to be here when the tide comes in!" With that, several of the Lossoth and Elves got down on their knees and proceeded to feel their way along the floor of the cave in the manner that Luindal had shown them.

A few of the party had already gone off to investigate one of the side tunnels: Galhardir along with two of the Elves. But most of the group were still gathered in the central cavern, crawling about on their hands and knees.

Seeing a small brown bat come flitting into the main cavern, Luindal beckoned him over and, despite the gravity of their situation, impishly observed, "Rôg, you're looking unusually good today, much better than I am, if I may so. However, I need a bit more information about those side tunnels. I have a feeling that nothing will turn up in this main cavern, and we'll have to spread out our search shortly. Any ideas on what order we should tackle those caverns. We might as well search the most dangerous ones first, those that are likely to flood the earliest, so we get them out of the way."

[piosenniel]

The Elves and Lossoth had all entered the cavern and were beginning their explorations. Rôg took one last fly-about in the main cavern. Bats are, of course, blind for the most part, but he sent out a high pitched squeal, unheard by the human ears, and listened closely to the pattern of echoes that returned to him. He was beginning to make a sort of map in his head of the interior of the main cavern . . . where the rocks were that jutted up from the floor; where the ceiling slanted, where it arched up; where the rock shelves jutted out about the walls, their echoed images configured with the irregular shapes of fallen rock that cluttered along their lengths.

How odd! he thought to himself as he moved from rocky grouping to another. How very odd! Probably nothing, really . . . He shrugged off the difference in the returned echoes as he moved across a particular section. Parts of the echoes were different, softer, blurrier than the others. Having never been in this sort of situation before, he could not tell what it was that made the difference.

Still, as he dropped down to where Luindal stood, the light of the torch flickering on his features, Rôg thought that perhaps he should tell the Captain that there appeared to be some ‘irregularities’ in the rocky structures that he had picked up. ‘I really have no idea what they mean,’ he said as he finished telling Luindal of them, having taken on his mannish form once more. ‘But I thought you would want to know about them . . .’

Luindal took Rog’s information under advisement, then repeated the question about the side tunnels and caverns. Rôg gave his gathered information careful thought, presenting it finally in as organized a way as he could:

‘There are thirteen tunnels,’ he began, ‘leading into smaller caverns than this, although four of them – the four immediately to your left as you stand with your back to the main cavern’s entrance, are blocked to entrance by rock fall. I managed to squeeze into them – they are small caverns and small tunnels. I really doubt something the size of even the smaller of the palantiri could have been deposited in them.’

‘That leaves nine tunnels – the four leading to the larger caverns; that is the ones you Elves could probably stand hunched over in are straight ahead of you. I think they must be the ones the motion of the incoming tides hits the hardest. They are likely candidates for having had the globes rolled into them at one time or another. Unfortunately, when the tide comes in, there might possible be headspace for breathing, but I would hate to have to find out whether that is true or not. And breathing room or no, the tunnels leading to them will all be completely filled with surging water.

‘The other five – three to the right of those larger mid-caverns and two to the left have very low ceilings. It will be a hands and knees search in there. And those five will certainly all fill with water as the tide comes in. They are large enough certainly for the smaller of the globes to have become lodged in.’

‘According to Bear the tide was just fully out, the waters of the bay ebbed as much as they would, when we gathered in front of the tunnel into this cavern. The incoming tide will be a very high one and will be at its full around midday when the sun is straight overhead. The tunnels will be passable about half way into that time period. Beyond that, they may be too full of water for some to pass safely.’

‘So . . . it is best that we make haste to finish as much of our investigations as we can this morning . . .’

[Arry]

The passage through the tunnel narrowed down in both height and width. The Elves and man had to tuck their elbow close to their bodies in order to traverse it. And by the time they neared the cavern itself, they were all three hunched over.

“Ouch!” cried Annû as he stepped into the main body of the cavern and attempted to straighten up. A string of rather colorful curses followed as he dropped his torch and slapped his hand to his injured head. From behind him came the unsympathetic laughter of his brother. “Look up next time, before you stand up,” came Carrandû’s unsolicited advice, followed by a surprised cry of pain as his Annû, in frustration, gave his brother a sharp rap on the shins with his now unlit torch.

A few moments of uncomfortable and rather dark silence followed. Then, the sound of giggling began bubbling up into full blown belly laughs. With a whoof of expelled air Annû sat down on the stony floor and reined in his laughter. The hand which held his unlit torch came round to be handed off to his brother. “At least Galhardir has kept his head about him,” laughed Annû, rubbing his own. “Pass our torch on to him and let’s get it relit.”

As the additional light flared up, the brothers and the man looked about the small cavern about them. “This is not a good sign,” commented Carandu, his hand going out to touch the encrustations in clumps on the walls of the narrow area and on its low ceiling. “Looks like barnacles and limpets, doesn’t it? That means the tide water fills this place completely.”

Annû retrieved the lit torch from Galhardir. “Let’s take a quick look around for a roundish sort of rock stuck in the cavern floor. Spread out in a line and we’ll crawl about for a close look-see. Hold your torch low, Galhardir, so we get a big pool of light as we move along.”

The three explorers moved in silence, their gazes fixed on the floor of the cavern. Carandû, at one point, reached out briefly and brushed some sediment off a likely looking little outcropping. The other two looked at him hopefully, but he shook his head ‘no’ at them and they moved forward in their search.

Carandû smiled to himself at the little specimen of rock he had found . . . the imprint of a whorled fossil imprinted in the small shale slab. He slipped it carefully into the pouch at his belt. Rodhal would have a souvenir from the adventure he had not been allowed to go on, he thought . . .

[Taralphiel]

Freyn followed at the end of the group, surveying the large cavern they had entered. Finally finding the source of these events was of great interest to him, and the story of this Stone had struck his curiosity. His boots padded lowly along the floor of the cave, making the familiar noise, and a loud echo following it. His old eyes darted across the tips of the slender peaks of ice, watching every slight movement or tremble of what was around him.

A few of those in the group divided, and he stood where he was, still watching the Cave cautiously. One hand was in his pocket, his thumb pressed on a small fur pouch of herbs and cloth, bandages and salves. He was not the fastest or strongest of this group, this he was oft reminded of. And so he though to provide service where it may be needed most, to those who may find trouble on their search instead of this Stone. He smiled as he recalled the worried mumbling of his wife as he left the tent, complaining that one so aged as he should not try such adventures of boys.

He chuckled inwardly, though saying nothing to the others of the group, as they waited for more to be said to him. The men they had chosen were good and brave, and he had no fear of this cave when trod through properly. Still, the familiar nagging in his gut told him that caution was always best, and his supplies would be well used by the end of this expedition.

[Orofaniel]

"What's that you've got there?" Annû asked his brother with great curiosity. He tried to crawl towards Carandû but was stopped by the big rock that lay in between. "There is a rock there..." Carandû said, without turning to look at his brother as he stumbled over it, loosing his torch. "Ouch!" Annû exclaimed. Galhardir crawled forwards to help the poor elf up, but Annû managed it on his own.

"I apologise brother," Carandû said causally as he still seemed fixed on his discovery. "Eh..no problem," Annû said, with a great deal of sarcasm. "I'm alright, if you were wondering," he then added, smiling widely. Hs brother burst into a merry laughter and so did Galhardir. But still, Galhardir was a bit worried about Annû’s fall, and asked him if he really was alright. Annû didn't seem to want to discuss it so Galhardir accepted Annû’s short answer. Now both Galhardir and Annû had reached Carandû and his discovery. "What exactly is that?" Glahardir asked Carandû as he examined it with his own torch. "It's...it's a fossil," Carandû said, looking very proud of what he had found. "See the lines here?" he then asked. Galhardir nodded.

"Where is your helmet Annû?" Galhardir then asked, noticing that Annû’s helmet could be everywhere else than it should be; on his head. "Uh..I don't know," the elf said, touching his head. "I probably lost it as I fell over the rock..." he then said. "Without noticing?" Galhardir then asked suspiciously. "Aye, must have been..." Annû continued.

"You better go get it," Carandû then said, finally looking away from the fossil. "Ah..you're right," Annû said. "Hand me your torch, Galhardir, will you?" Annû said, holding his empty hand out. "I could need both; it's so dark in here..." he then said, while Galhardir handed his torch over to Annû. "You two just stay here," Annû then said, turning his back on them to find his helmet.

Not a minute had gone by before Galhardir and Caranû could hear a great boom. Galhardir jumped, holding Carandû by the arm. "What was that?" he whispered. Carandû didn't answer, just had the only torch they had in the direction they had heard the noise. "Maybe it's Annû!" Carandû exclaimed. "Maybe...he went after all, in that very direction!" Galhardir then whispered back. "What shall we do?" Galhardir continued. He suddenly became aware of the tales that had been told about this cave; what if they were true? He got anxious and frightened, but could not tell by looking at Carandû that he felt the same; he seemed so calm. "We should just stay...hush!" Carandû said. "I hear something," he continued, he too was whispering. Galhardir could also hear it; slow footsteps, as they were dragged along the cavern.

"Who's there?!" Carandû then yelled.

Galhardir heard nothing but the echoes.

"It's just me..."

It was a familiar voice. It was Annû’s voice! "Annû!" Carandû exclaimed, as he saw the elf move slowly towards them. "Aye, it's me.." he then replied. "What was that frightful noise we heard? Did you hear it too?" Galhardir then asked.

"I did hear it, indeed. Too well, one might say..." Annû then said. He had now reached the two others. The light from the two torches he bore mad it possible for Galhardir to see the blood from his forehead. "What happened?" Galhardir then gazed. "The same old rock..." Annû said, smiling a bit.

"That doesn't look good, my friend," Galhardir continued, shaking his head. "No, we better return to the main cavern, don’t you think?" Carandû then said, holding his hand out to touch Annû head. "Nah-a," Annû said, taking a step backwards. "It's alright my friends," he said. "There is nothing to worry about...although returning to the main cavern is something we could...and should do after, my opinion," he said as he handed Galhardir the torch back. "Aye, there is nothing to find here...let’s go," Galhardir then said, leading the way.

[Rinfanawen]

“Jynne and Diera will go as a team.”

Diera despised the words. Of course, why wouldn't I be chosen? she thought to herself. It's just my luck. She praised the moment at the fact that Jynne had been chosen to go as well, for at least the two were familiar with each other. But the Lossoth... she sneered in her thoughts. I do not trust them...not well enough, at least. Marreth may find some loyalty in them, but I cannot find the loyalty I need to let them go wandering about a Cave of the Dead. They must not foil our plans. I will make sure of that.

As a foul look of disgust crossed her fear-worn eyes, she turned to look upon the Lossoth men. One, named Tarn as it were, had at some point placed a metal helmet upon his head. The helmet, to her, seemed rather odd to be worn by a Lossoth, since they mostly adorned in fur or some sort of animal hide. Diera questioned his intentions greatly. That ridiculous fool, she thought. We are going into a cave to spy, not give away our position with such outlandish armor. Suddenly the Lossoth caught her eye. Tarn smiled politely, but Diera sneered at him and turned her back before she arose in laughter. The helmet, and then the unusually white teeth? she thought in mockery. Well, you learn something new every day.

Diera led the small group silently through the cave. Just the thought of being there made her shudder, but knowing that is was indeed called the “Cave of the Dead” did not make it any more comforting. The cave was dark. Small rocks could be heard tumbling down the cavern walls far ahead, but she knew that no one had yet entered. Something was definitely lurking there, and she feared to meet what that was.

“I think we should split up here,” Diera whispered to the Lossoth. She signaled the Lossoth to take the far side of the cave while the Corsairs found some place nearby. The Lossoth took the lantern. The cave was now almost completely dark as Nilak led Tarn on away from them. Diera almost smiled at the thought of leaving the Lossoth, but she knew she must not forget her business.

Diera and Jynne walked on until they found a space near the top of the cave. They were clearly hidden from all...even the Lossoth. A small time elapsed before any sign of Elves appeared, and in that time, she found herself shivering at the eerie wind that blew through the cave. That is not a wind she thought to herself. It is far too lively to be any normal breeze. The light from the approaching Elven group soon lightened up part of the cave. Diera lowered her head below the rocks in front of her, as did Jynne. The Elves could be seen walking slowly below accompanied by many Lossoth.

I knew they couldn’t be trusted! Diera thought raising her eyes at the sight. The Lossoth have joined with them as well! You would think that the entire group would join with one side or the other. I must now keep an extra eye on those who say they are with us. She peered down with glaring eyes at the Elves. Fear could be seen clearly through the eyes of the Elves as the wind continued to blow. Rocks began to fall from the walls, one happening to fall directly towards an Elf. The Elf fell in shock, but managed to keep her balance. Diera laughed inside. If only Doyal could see this, she thought, remembering her shipmate. Oh, this is going to be quite fun.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Luindal had staked out for himself a section of the floor as well as the adjacent wall along the back of the cavern. The search here was easier in one respect: this was the tallest part of the cave so that he could stand upright with no difficulty and still have considerable room to spare. The ground in this spot had only a superficial covering of mud and silt. Underneath the mud was a hard, rocky ledge. Larger boulders were spread out here and there.

Right above his head, Luindal noticed some odd formations that almost looked like giant icicles hanging down from the roof. He had seen these in other caves back home, but the matching icicles that usually pushed up from the ground were totally missing, perhaps destroyed by the waters of the Bay.

Still standing upright, but using the protruding rocks to feel his way cautiously along the length of the ledge, he had to be careful not to cut his hands. Several of the stones had unrelenting sharp edges: one reached out to nab his ankle sending him sprawling to the floor. Feeling a bit embarassed, he reached out and grabbed onto a boulder to pull himself up to a standing postion. His fingers unexpectedly rubbed along something that was soft. Holding the torch closer, he was startled to see a tiny swatch of material hanging from a jagged rock edge. The cloth looked as if it was torn from something larger and still had a large button sewn on it.

Someone in our party must have caught his cloak and ripped it. Yet strange that I should find this here. I could have sworn I was the first to search here. But perhaps not. You can't see more than a finger's breadth in front of your nose in this infernal darkness. And what a strange design this button has. Certainly not Elvish. It probably belongs to one of the Snowmen"

Luindal absentmindedly stuffed the button and scrap of material into his pocket thinking that, perhaps later, someone would discover they had lost it and be grateful to get it back. He firmly believed that nothing should be wasted or simply tossed out. Then he forgot about the incident and refocused his attention on examining the floors and walls.

When another hour brought no new discoveries for anyone in the party, he stood up and beckoned the Elves and the Lossoth over to his side. "We must make haste. We will split up and search the side tunnels as Galhardir, Carrandû, and Annû have already started. But be careful! The most dangerous part lies ahead. Freyn, make sure to keep in touch with Rôg in case anyone needs your help."

With that, the last of the Elves and the Lossoth collected their torches and filed out of the main cavern to begin their exploration of the treacherous side tunnels.

[Lalwendë]

Tarn

Nilak had finally found a hiding place and Tarn was so relieved to have stopped descending further into the caves that he crept in behind the other Lossoth man, despite the alcove in the rock being so small and cramped that he began to wonder if this was what being buried alive would feel like. He wriggled about until he managed to fit his long legs into the crevice in such a way that they would stand no chance of becoming trapped there. The rock was cold and slimy with salt water caught in the cracks; this was obviously a place which filled to the brim with water at high tide. Tarn raised himself up onto his arms a little to be free of the clammy stones.

“Yes, this is a good spot” he said to Nilak quietly. “I suppose some of those elves will come down here. So we just lie and watch.” For a while, there was nothing to see, and little sound apart from the incessant dripping of water, a sound that soon began to get on Tarn’s already edgy nerves. Nilak extinguished the lantern and they were plunged into oppressive darkness. The walls seemed to close about even more tightly and Tarn struggled to breathe steadily. Then he felt a slight breeze on his cheek, and heard a faint whirring sound, as of birds’ wings. He sensed another noise, one which he could not hear, but felt as an uncanny flickering in his eardrums, as though the air pressure had altered. He kept as still as possible, holding his breath and after a minute he exhaled in a rush.

“What is it?” whispered Nilak, in as low a voice as he could manage.

“Something went by” Tarn whispered back. He couldn’t work out what type of creature it was, whether it was a bird or an insect, but he knew something had passed them by. Tarn was an instinctive hunter and knew the ways of animals, and he knew that what had just passed by was not a draught of wind.

Minutes later voices began to drift into the tunnels, as mingled and incomprehensible as the sound of waves at first, but gradually changing. A woman’s voice came echoing down the tunnels, musical yet filled with fear, then it grew quieter. A group of men approached, making a lot of noise. Tarn heard shouting, followed by laughter, and a torch revealed a group of three, two elves and Galhardir. Tarn realised what the Lossoth boats had been doing at the Elven ship yesterday; they were forming an alliance. “Idiots!” he thought to himself angrily, as he and Nilak slowly crept as far back as possible into the shadows, like two spiders hiding from the light.

Tarn watched the party search the cavern and couldn’t help but smirk as he thought of these elves and their Lossoth companion, rummaging around in the silt, vulnerable and entirely innocent of the spies who watched them.

[piosenniel]

Once he had spoken with Luindal, Rôg took wing again. The Captain had indicated that three of the searchers had already gone down one of the side tunnels. Carandû and Annû – the two who had so kindly helped him below as they’d entered the bay. One of the Lossoth was with them, also. Galhardir – the fellow who had brought the young boy with him.

The main body of Elves and Lossoth had broken up into search parties at Luindal’s direction and were now fanning out toward the side tunnels that Rôg had indicated were passable. Rôg flew low, skimming softly at knee height about the main cavern, checking for the presence of searchers heading down the tunnels to the small caverns. At one of the tunnels, he heard the sound of scraping coming near – something moved along slowly within the passageway. Flying cautiously into the side tunnel, he caught the sounds of the two brothers and Galhardir moving toward the little cavern. ‘By the Stars! he squeaked to himself – the keen-eyed Elves had apparently found an additional tunnel that opened into yet another small cavern. No luck, though he noted, scanning their hands – nothing of a rounded, globe nature could he pick out.

The three came all they way out into the main cavern, their knees covered in silt. And themselves looking a bit battered, he noted changing back to mannish form. One of the Lossoth’s hands had a good deal of dried blood on it. And the foolish Elf, no helmet to be seen, looked to have a sizeable goose-egg of a lump on the top of his head, and a few streaks of blood from where it had bled a bit.

Startling the three, as he stepped into their pool of light, he raised his hand in greeting and pointed back near the entrance to the main cavern. ‘One of the other Lossoth, Freyn by name, has stationed himself over there. He has his little kit of herbs and bandages. Go over and let him take a look at your injuries. We wouldn’t want any of you falling ill from them.’ Annû was about to wave off the suggestion, saying he was alright, there was no need. But Rôg stood firm, saying the Captain had made a point that injuries of any sort should be seen to . . .

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth watched and listened as the Elves passed out of the large cavern into the side tunnels, their footsteps leaving behind an eerie echo through the empty chamber. Even with my coat, it’s still freezing cold in here, he grumbled. One by one the Elves passed by Marreth’s hiding spot, completely oblivious to the Corsair who crouched in the shadows.

So, the Lossoth had been telling the truth after all. Marreth decided he would reward the shadowy figure for being of use to the expedition. Of all the places to look, he would never have imagined that the fools would choose to search in the Cave of the Dead. Gleefully, Marreth saw them stumble and grope through the darkly lit cave. One or two seemed to have sustained minor injury. Foolish immortals, scoffed Marreth, their pretty little faces will all be bloodied and bruised.

After a moment spent relishing the Elven misfortune, Marreth turned his attention back to the reason he had actually come here: to have his men spy on their enemies. He had already learned a number of things. The group was definitely searching for the Stones but had yet to unearth anything of use. He had also found out that their captain's name was Luindal, a tall and gangly fellow who appeared strangely calm.

His men had already apprised him of the numbers in the cave. At the present moment, the Elves outnumbered them by seven or eight. With the numbers being against him, Marreth was quite glad he had decided not to attack the group outright, but to pursue a more subtle approach by keeping his own intentions hidden.

The newcomers were relatively well armed, bearing an assortment of things that could be used as weapons: torches, daggers, short swords, and pick axes. A few of the group were not Elves at all, but Snowmen, like the ones Marreth had working for him. He did not harbor the same ill feelings for the Snowmen as he did for the Elves or Gondorians. But, if these foolish Lossoth chose to side with the enemy, they would have to be discarded as well. These fools might have been rewarded if they had aided the Corsairs. Now, their fate was sealed.

Hearing a suspicious rustling on the ledge next to his own, Marreth rapidly turned about. To his horror, one of the crew had pulled out a knife and was about to jump out and slit the throat of an Elf passing by. Moving decisively out of the shadows, Marreth forcibly restrained the crew member, clapping a hand tightly over his mouth. Although enraged, Marreth controlled his temper for fear of being heard. He had heard tales of the sharp hearing of Elves and did not wish to test their validity.

Moving to a farther corner of the cave away from the stream of Elves, Marreth grabbed the man by his neck and whispered commandingly, “You fool! What do you think you were doing? Trying to get us killed?”

“I am sorry my Captain. I just couldn't resist. They looked like easy targets. I could not bear lying idle and watching them prance about this hole pretending to be the masters of it. As I was spying on the vermin, a fire of hatred burned in my belly and I resolved to act."

Mareth grimaced, “Fool, I am the one giving orders here. If you had attacked, the Elves would bear down on us like a wolf on fresh meat. We must keep surprise in our favor at all costs. Don’t ever disobey me again, or you will swim with the sharks. I will deal with your lapse when we get out of this cave. And do not think my mind so feeble as to forget it!”

“No Captain, of course not Captain.” The man cringed submissively and slunk silently away.

Although the deed was reckless, Marreth understood the impulses that drove his crewman to act. He had also felt the urge to attack and humiliate the Elves. The only difference was that he possessed enough discipline to control his actions. His men, however, were growing restless. He would have to act soon, or they would get out of control. The only question was what course of action would bring the results that they needed.

[Imladris]

Jynne listened to the elves as they worked, listened to the leader tell them how the Stones looked. And he realized that the Corsair's job could be so simple. As he heard the elves and Snowman scrabble down one of the side caverns, leaving the main cavern, he slithered from his ledge of rocks and slipped into the shadows, seeking for the captain.

As he crept along the rocks, he heard a sharp whispering. "Don’t ever disobey me again, or you will swim with the sharks. I will deal with your lapse when we get out of this cave. And do not think my mind so feeble as to forget it!”

Clinging to the cavern wall as if he had become one with the shadows, he slipped around a jutting crag and saw the captain with his hand gripped around a fellow crewman's neck. A thin smile flickered upon his face.

“No Captain, of course not Captain.” The man cringed submissively and slunk silently away.

"Captain," Jynne whispered softly, "why should we crawl around like blind worms when the sun shines?"

"What?" asked Marreth.

"Why not let these...elves look for them? The caves --" he guestured up towards the cavern ceiling -- "are old. They are crumbling. There could be a...natural...disaster," he added silkily. "The elves would become trapped...hopefully they will find the Stones before they realize their peril...we would wait until the filth had died and then uncover the treasure within. And if the elves did not manage to add the Stones," he added, "then we will find them ourselves without our steps being dogged."

[Arry]

Annû snorted as Rôg took off. ‘Captain’s orders, eh?! We’ll see about that.’ He held his torch up high looking to see where Luindal might have gone. Carandû hauled his arm down, hissing that perhaps he ought to think twice before he go taking up Rôg’s directive with the Captain. ‘It’s your own fault you banged your head. I do know you were standing right next to me when the Captain ordered us all to have helmets on.’ He hauled his brother in the general direction that Rôg had indicated. Galhardir followed along with them.

In a few moments, the two Elves and their companion Lossoth stood before a bemused older man. Freyn, the Lossoth said in way of introduction. He held his torch closer to see their injuries. Carandû laughed as the healer fingered the goose-egg bump on his brother’s head. ‘We didn’t find the globe the Captain’s looking for,’ he chortled a bit when Annû winced as Freyn’s fingers found a particularly tender spot. ‘But I must say I think my brother gets the prize for bringing back a globe of his own.’

[Regin Hardhammer]

Regin's post - Marreth

Marreth gazed at Jynne with a glint in his eye, “Yes. I think a little “natural disaster” would be a very good idea. And I’d be exceedingly glad to get out of this cramped, freezing hole. We must gather all the men and climb onto the ledge overlooking the entrance of the cave. The sooner we spring our trap the better. We can do no more spying here for the Elves have moved into the side passages.”

Giving Jynne a short, appreciative nod,, Marreth crept noiselessly toward the entrance of the cave, gathering groups of his men along the way, until all the crew stood outside the entrance. He said to them, “Mates, I have a plan to get back at those vile Elves. We will trap them inside by sealing the cave off with rocks. Best of all, no one will suspect that we are the culprits. Follow me.” Marreth led his crew in scaling the distance up to the ledge, accompanied by the ship’s officers at his side. The ascent was not long or difficult, thanks to the many protruding rocks adorning the opening’s facing.

While at the top, Marreth stopped and waited for his crew to join him. They made their way up the face of the hillside cliff one-by-one. When several had gathered, he began, “The plan is to push the rocks on the ledge onto the ground below, making it look like a rockslide, so that the Elves are not suspicious. When they try to get out they will be trapped. So…there are some large boulders here and we will need to work together. Who will help me push these rocks down?”

With that invitation, Marreth began pushing up a nearby boulder with a sturdy crowbar, hoping to pry it loose.

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Rinfanawen’s post

It's been no use spying on these Elves, Diera thought. They had been waiting and watching for what seemed like hours, but nothing was to be seen. They don't even look to be good at searching in the first place. Who would send an Elf to do a mortal's job? Suddenly she caught herself, realizing the words that entered her mind. What am I saying? She said in her mind. I should be glad the Elves have not found the stones. I want to find them first! They belong only in the hands of my captain at this present moment. Quickly her thoughts were interrupted by the quiet sound of an arguing voice in the distance.

Diera turned to gain Jynne's attention, but he was already near the floor of the cave, walking in the shadows.

“Jynne,” Diera whispered to her shipmate. “What if it's an Elf?”

Whether by choice or lack of hearing the comment, Jynne did not answer. He clung tightly to the wall of the cavern, hidden within the dark shadows around. Diera listened quietly to the voice in the distance. She breathed deeply in relief. It is but Marreth approaching, she sighed in thought. Diera began her descent from her hiding place to find the Captain already near, and speaking with Jynne.

“There could be a...natural...disaster,” suggested Jynne.

Diera already loved the idea. A cave-in would be perfect, she thought, listening to the rest of the proposal. Finally, a little action, and we are going to obliterate those immortal villains.

The captain seemed to agree, though he did not know her thought. “The sooner we spring our trap the better,” he has said. Diera smiled at the remark. She followed her crew out of the caves, and to the entrance from which they had come. Marreth began to address the Corsairs.

“Mates, I have a plan to get back at those vile Elves,” he spoke. “We will trap them inside the cave by sealing the cave off with rocks. Best of all, no one will suspect that we are the culprits. Follow me.”

[Taralphiel]

Freyn kept his chuckle inward as he saw two Elves and a man approach to be tended to. He nodded to them, saying “My name is Freyn, and I’m the man left with tending to you. Let’s see what we have here…”

As he prodded gingerly one Elf’s crown, the other chuckled at him and said “We didn’t find the globe the Captain’s looking for, but I must say I think my brother gets the prize for bringing back a globe of his own.” Freyn let escape a laugh, and added “Aye, that ye did, but I wager it could have been a deal worse. These caves are quite hard to make any way through…”

Freyn applied a cloth, soaked in a sweet-smelling leaf, and wrapped a loose bandage over it, clucking a little “Well, it looks rather awkward, but with a helmet on, it should help it heal up and stop any more bumps coming up, if you follow…”

He turned and looked at the group, seeing that maybe his helped could be needed on one other. But, scratching his head, he smiled and said rather sheepishly “I did not quite catch your names…”

[Niluial]

Er, Elwë where exactly are we going?" Andtuariel asked anxiously.

"I want to go into that unexplored tunnel," Elwë pointed to the dark, lifeless tunnel. He shivered; the icy air had bitten right into his
bones, and his teeth couldn't stop clattering together. Andtuariel followed him, grabbing onto his hand as they entered the small tunnel.
They had to bend over to walk in the tunnel as it was low and the sides
touched them as they crawled along. As they kept on going, it got smaller and smaller, and soon they had no choice but to squeezed through.

Andtuariel muttered something to herself and Elwë chuckled. "First sign
of insanity to talk to yourself, you know." Elwë said trying to joke, in hope to avoid the anxiety and fear. Before Andtuariel could reply Elwë said abruptly, "what's that?"

"Oh, it looks like a cave!" Andtuariel said jerking her head trying to see more of it.

"Yes, a rather small one."

"Let's go see." Andtuariel said with a sudden tone of excitement.

Squeezing through the blacker hole that marked the entrance into the smaller cave, Elwë stopped and looked about it. It had a surprisingly high ceiling covered in long pointy pieces of ice. The thought that one of those icy swords could come tumbling down upon them was too terrifying to put into words. Elwë then shivered. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Andtuariel said, walking slightly ahead of Elwë exploring the iced cave.

"Beautiful, yet dangerous," he added.

Elwë walked around the small cave, looking for another tunnel. A few
rocks fell from the ceiling and Elwë lifted his head and pricked his long, pointy ears up looking around suspiciously. "Did you hear that?" He asked Andtuariel, with a worried expression.

"Yes, but it's probably just the vibrations or something like that,
nothing to worry about" Andtuariel said, sure that everything was right.

"Vibrations from what? Do you think some of the elves have ventured up
above us, on the roof?"

"Probably!" Andtuariel said sounding not very concerned. She crouched down examining a strange looking rock. It was covered in what looked like sickly fungi. She stood up, starting to walk towards Elwë, "I really think. AAAAA!"

Elwë rolled his eyes. She's probably seen a spider, silly girl.
"What's wrong now?" He waited for a reply. Nothing. "I said, what's
wrong!" he shouted but quieted himself, remembering the long ice pieces
hanging from the ceiling.

He walked to where she was. He suddenly froze, "Andtuariel!" he shrieked as he saw her body on the ground. "I. I. I think I'm ok" she stuttered, slightly opening her eyes. Elwë shone his torch to examined her; her one foot was stuck in a hole and her head was bleeding as it had hit a sharp rock. He tugged at her foot, trying to get it out. "Try and get it out Andtuariel! We need to get you to Freyn."

"I can't"

Elwë sighed and sat back after ten minutes of tugging. Now what? Do I keep on trying or leave her and get help? It's too dangerous! I wonder where Rôg is.

[Arry]

‘Hmmm . . . this doesn’t smell too bad!’ Annû lifted his helmet off and fingered the bandage that Freyn had applied. Carandû hissed at him and jammed the helmet back on his brother’s head. From the corner of his eye he could see Captain Luindal looking their way.

Galhardir, catching the last of Freyn’s question, stepped forward and introduced himself. Freyn’s gaze fell on the man’s injured hand and he offered to take a look at it. ‘Go on,’ said Annû. ‘Let him look at it. He’s not half bad!’

Carandû sighed and stepped forward. ‘I’m Carandû, from the elven ship . . . but then you probably already knew that . . . the Elven ship that is.’ He dragged his brother forward. ‘And this is my brother, Annû, . . . my younger brother. And you need to know his “not half bad” comment really was meant as a compliment.’ Carandû nudged his brother who shook his head ‘yes’ as he made a small bow toward the healer.

‘Say,’ said Annû, ‘we seem to be your only patients at the moment. Would you like to join us for a little exploration of one of the side tunnels.’ He looked toward his brother. ‘We have enough time for that, don’t we? Before the tide turns and begins washing in?’

‘It’ll have to be a quick search,’ returned Carandû, after giving the question a little thought. ‘I think the Captain will probably call us together soon and we’ll need to get out of here – back to the boat.’ He looked expectantly at Freyn. ‘What do you say? Four pairs of hands and eyes would make the work go more quickly. And besides,’ he said laughingly as he looked toward his brother, ‘the medicines and bandages would probably be where they’re most needed.’

[piosenniel]

After his ‘encouragement’ of the Elven brothers and the Lossoth concerning their need to visit the healer, Rôg joined Luindal’s group in one of the smaller caverns on the northern end of the big cave. ‘Might as well get in on the action,’ he said to the captain, as he lit the torch he’d brought and bent down close to the floor with it. It was back breaking, dirty work - all hunched over, eyes glued to the surface of the floor, hands prying through whatever silt had mounded up around objects on the floor. Rôg inched along, on his knees for the most part, brand in one hand, knife in the other for prying at likely objects.

After a bit, Luindal motioned him over. ‘I’m worried that we might spend too much time in here and the tide start to come in,’ the captain said. ‘I’ll have my little group move back out to the main cavern. Can you contact the other groups and tell them to head back there, too? Once we’ve all gathered together and all are accounted for, we can head back to the ship and make plans for the morrow.’

With a great sigh of relief, and a small rub to his back to ease the cramped muscles, Rôg handed the captain his torch and changed back to a little bat. Soon he was zipping in and out of the tunnels, bringing the message to the search groups . . .

[Arry]

It was Carandû who took the lead this time. He’d spied another tunnel half hidden behind a pile of loose rock that had apparently fallen down from the ceiling. The four searchers cleared away the pieces – carefully, as Freyn and Galhardir reminded them that the rock, though soft and easily flaked often bore sharp edges where it had separated from the surrounding stone facings.

Freyn was tied on to Carandû and him in turn to Galhardir, with Annû bringing up the rear. The tunnel itself was short, and thankfully high enough that it could be crawled through without elbows or skulls hitting the sides and top of the passageway. Once they were in, the cavern it connected with was another small sized on, at least in ground area, but to the Elves’ delight, it was tall enough for them to stand.

‘I think we should untie ourselves and each take a torch,’ offered Galhardir as he looked about the area. ‘Good idea,’ said Annû. ‘We can each go over a quarter of the ground.’ He looked about the small area. ‘It does look promising. The tunnel was big enough for the smaller of the palantir to be wash in. and there are plenty of piles of loose rock that it could be hidden beneath.’

The four men divided up the search area and going to the farthest boundary of their part of the little cavern. They got down on their hands and knees and began an examination of the floor, moving the piles of rubble carefully as they did so..

‘Remember,’ said Carandû, calling out from his lit corner, ‘work as quickly as you can without hurting yourselves. We can’t spend long in here. The tide will be coming back in soon . . .’

[Orofaniel]

"The tide!" Galhardir exclaimed. He had completely forgotten about it; The water would be flowing all over the place when the tide came. They ought to be out before then. What happened if someone didn't make it out until that time, Galhardir couldn't say for sure, except for that they would indeed be in a difficult situation. He shuddered while thinking about it, before he followed the others through a new narrow, dark path.

"Do you actually think we'll find something?" Galhardir whispered to Annû. He didn't quite know why he was whispering, but he couldn't help it.

"It depends, I guess," Annû said. "But it's too dark," Galharidr replied. "Aye, it is. But if the thing we are looking for really is here in the caverns, I don't think the darkness will stop us finding it," Annû then said. Galhardir shrugged. "You're probably right," Galhardir then said, thinking about the others who were also looking around in the other tunnels. They had to find it eventually.

Galhardir then turned his thoughts towards Rodhal. He still felt a bit bad because he left him behind. But at the same time, it wouldn't be responsible to bring him along. Rodhal was old enough to know that and he had shown his uncle how mature he was by telling just that to him.

"I think we should return to the others," Carandû then said after a while. He didn't have to repeat that as all four of them moved quickly. As they came towards the end of the tunnel, Rôg asked the two eleven brothers to help two of the other elves that were stuck further down the tunnel. Galhardir gasped as he heard the news. How would they get out? But he trusted the Carandû and Annû as the two of them followed Rôg. Freyn and Galhardir continued forwards, waiting for Annû and Carandû, together with the two elves to return...

[Lalwendë]

Lalwende's post

Tarn moved quickly down the tunnel, following the elves and Galhardir. He was eager to keep up with what they were doing and did not move quite so awkwardly on his return to the main cavern. He moved in short bursts, stopping to hide when he thought he may be spotted, carrying on when he could remain within the shadows. A change in the level of the voices indicated that he had arrived back at the main cavern; they were not so clear, and it sounded as though a crowd had gathered. Yet when he peered around to look, there was just a handful of elves and men.

Creeping along the dripping wall of the cavern, away from the light, Tarn edged out of the tunnel and into the wider space. He started to breathe a little more easily, and side-stepped along until he came to a corner where he could hide. He heard who he thought was Nilak move into the corner next to him, but his breathing was different, and he seemed to be taller.

"Outside, now " said Marreth

Tarn didn’t refuse. He was desperate to be outside once more. As soon as he left the cave he stretched, screwing up his eyes as they adjusted to the light, and greedily breathed in the clear, fresh air as though he was drinking after a long thirst.

Tarn's eyebrows shot up when he heard Marreth’s plan. He didn't know whether to say something defiant to the captain, to try to refuse, but this sounded like a task he could relish. He nodded his assent and started to climb with speed. He was eager to be one of the first to reach the ledge above the cave entrance and as Tarn was a good climber, nimble and surefooted, he was soon standing near Marreth. He began loosening a boulder, working quickly but with a wry smirk on his face.

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Rinfanawen’s post

Diera climbed quickly up the jagged rock wall alongside her captain and other officers. Despite the fact that she still hated the land immensely, she loved the thought of not entering the caves for at least an extended length of time. She smiled merrily at sun. A bright light was finally shining on their mission. The top of the cave soon came, and the crew stepped foot on the peak. Marreth began to address them once again:

“The plan is to push the rocks on the ledge onto the ground below, making it look like a rockslide, so that the Elves are not suspicious. When they try to get out, they will be trapped. So…there are some large boulders here and we will need to work together. Who will help me push these rocks down?”

The corsair crew immediately began to aid Marreth in loosening the boulders from atop the cave. Some, Marreth for one, used tools such as crowbars or metal rods to loosen the protruding rocks. Others, Diera included, chose a more subtle approach. She began with the smaller rocks near the edge of the cliff, tossing them aside for lack of purpose, which slowly began to free the larger rocks from their positions on the cave wall. If nothing else, Diera thought. We could use the smaller rocks for hurling directly at the Elves, just in case one manages to escape. The rocks began to shift slightly as the stones beneath them were removed. Diera smiled evilly. She returned to the previous side of the larger boulders and began to push against them, aiding their plunge to the cavern entrance.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth had chosen a medium sized rock which was perfectly situated for blocking the cave's entrance. He began to heave his entire weight against the boulder with the assistance of two of his crewmates. The stone shuddered mightly and then began rolling downward. With a thud it hit the earth, right in the center of the opening. A few smaller rocks fell as the tremor created by the original reverberated through the mountain.

This is a good start, thought Marreth, but they needed more rocks. And larger ones too. The Captain selected a bigger boulder that was a few feet from the edge. Once again, Marreth pushed the rock with all the effort he could muster. bearing down on his crowbar. It budged an inch, but refused to move any farther.

Marreth turned toward his men and yelled, "What are all you standing there for. We need more than three people to push this boulder. Get your behinds over here and lend a hand. All of you."

Marreth turned his attention back to the rock and pushed, waiting for his entire crew to pitch in. Pushing boulders over the edge was not as easy a task as he had first thought.

[Imladris]

Jynne slouched over to help the captain. Naturally, he would not be allowed to go back to the boat. It was not the captain's way to award the brains.

The rest of the crew trailed along after him. Nestling his shoulder in a little cranny, he heaved and felt the rock skid across the rough land. He felt one of the crew put their grubby hands on his shoulder to aid in pushing the heavy boulder. "Hands off," he hissed, sending a daggerous glare at him. "Push on some other lout."

The boulder tumbled from onto the other, a cloud of dust accompanying it. A thin smile stretched Jynne's hollow cheeks. The elves could not escape once the opening was completely covered.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he followed Marreth to another suitable boulder.

[Kitanna]

Nilak had crawled out of the alvoce and was following Tarn back to the main entrance. He could still hear the Elves and their Lossoth allies moving about the cave. For fear of being caught Nilak moved along the wall and a few feet behind Tarn. Two would be easier to spot then one. He was swift and like a shadow, making as little sound as he could.

When he moved into the main cavern he shrunk against the wall to avoid unfriendly eyes. Tarn was not five feet away. Someone moved next to him. It was Marreth. Nilak barely made out what he said, but when the Lossoth and Corsair headed for the entrance to the cave he followed.

It seemed Marreth was planning on pushing boulders down to block the entrance of the cave. This captain was Nilak's kind of scum. Marreth and two of his crewmen were able to free a medium sized boulder and it rolled down and blocked the entrance. The Elves would be trapped inside.

"What are all you standing there for. We need more than three people to push this boulder. Get your behinds over here and lend a hand. All of you." Marreth snapped.

Nilak smiled a wicked smile and went to aid the others. This was a job Nilak could enjoy. Eliminate those who were after his treasure.

[Imladris]

Crouching in the shadow of a nearby boulder, Jynne wiped the sweat from his eyes, and began to pick out the fine grain of stones that had lodged themselves in his skin.
The glare in his eyes hardened as he looked at his hand. It was becoming patchy. Blotches of the white skin were beginning to spread like mold upon old bread.

With a frown he glided to his feet and put his shoulder to the rock. It moved easily under the loose dirt, toppled over the edge, and landed on top of the other boulders with a cracking thud.

Slithering down, his eyes flitted across there work. A thin smile stretched his face. It was a fitting tomb for the elves. Hopefully they'd do the job right and find the Stones before they died.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Glad to be leaving the side tunnel, Luindal re-entered the main hall and noted that a number of Elves and Lossoth had already found their way to the spot near the back of the cavern where he had told everyone to gather. Weary and footsore, with backs and arms aching from bending down and squeezing through narrow holes, each of these told a similar account: despite hours of digging and close observation, they had seen nothing resembling magical Stones. There had been only endless twisting pathways covered with mud interspersed with an occasional patch of slick ice and cliffs that dropped precipitously downward.

"There's no Palantiri here," Luriel, one of the Wood-Elves, assured him. "Not even a hint of one. Can't we leave before things get worse?"

The Elf's heartfelt plea had mirrored Luindal's own thoughts. He could hear and see nothing of the outside world from this vantage in the cave, but the tide would soon be pounding against the shore, bringing with it a surfeit of water that would eventually submerge the entire cavern. Alahseey had told him grim tales of treasure hunters who'd hid shipwreck cargo within the recesses of the black cavern and, unwilling to give up their reward, had perished in the attempt to save it. This, as much as anything, had led to the cave's bleak reputation.

Holding his torch aloft to survey the men in his group, Luindal was appalled to discover that more than a few of their number were still missing. The reason for this soon became obvious. Rôg darted into the cave bringing a dire message: "The waters are rising in the lowest tunnels. At least one, perhaps two of the searchers, are having trouble getting through. The others have stayed trying to help them."

"Shall I send more Elves to help?"

The tiny bat blinked twice and seemed to shake his head. "It would do no good. Any more in such a narrow passage would only increase the risk. They are doing their best and I will help them."

Luindal turned towards the Elf, who had spoken with him before, "Luriel, lead this group outside. Wait on the shore. I'll stay in here till we get the rest

The brown bat had begun to flitter over to the side tunnel, but abruptly halted to alight on a rock, Rôg cried out in a tiny voice, "Can't you feel that? The vibrations from outside."

Luindal stopped and closed his eyes, leaning against the back wall of the cavern. he could definitely feel something. For a moment, he thought it might be an earthquake. Such things were not unheard of in lands made of ice. But then he had the clear sense of great giants thuds coming not from the ground underneath his feet but from somewhere over his head.

"Go now. A landslide!" he bellowed. "Get out of here as fast as you can...."

[piosenniel]

Pio's post

As he flew toward the tunnel where the searchers were still making their way out, Rôg noted that four people were just emerging from a tunnel near it. It was the two Elves who’d helped him on the ship – Carandû and his brother. In a flurry of little wings he flew to them and landed precariously on Annû’s thick fleece over-tunic. Working his way toward the surprised Elf’s ear, he squeaked a request for him and his brother to follow down the tunnel after him. ‘Two of the Elves are still down in the little cavern at the end of the tunnel,’ he said. ‘One of them may be injured. Help me get them out.’

‘And you, Freyn, can you wait here until we bring the Elves out? They may need your services.’

Rôg dove down the tunnel, the two brothers following . . .

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Arry’s post

By the time Carandû and his brother had reached the little cave, Rôg was already back in mannish form and kneeling by the injured Elf. It was Andtuariel! She looked quite pale, the blood on her face from the rock cut making her skin seem even whiter in contrast. The lower part of her leg had caught in a hole in the cavern floor and seemed quite firmly wedged.

Annû knelt down quickly opposite Rôg. He took out his big-bladed knife and began chipping at the rock edges of the hole. Elwë, too, was knocking at the jagged rim that held her boot tight. ‘At least her leg is not bent at an unnatural angle,’ whispered Annû to Andtuariel’s brother. ‘The boot has padded it a bit and hopefully there will be only a little swelling.’ Rôg stabilized the woman’s leg as the other two worked on enlarging the hole. After a number of minutes, the only sounds being the clack and scrap of steel against rock, Annû, Elwë, and Rôg were able to gently eas the Elf’s foot from where it had been trapped.

Carrandû had packed a thin piece of leather, all folded up, into the pouch slung at his belt. It was a fair sized piece with which he meant to wrap the palantir should they discover it. Now he laid it on the ground, and the four of them eased Andtuariel onto it. Her ankle was quite swollen and too painful for her to bear weight.

Rôg changed back to his bat form, flying quickly down the tunnel to alert Freyn. Carrandû knelt down and grasped the edges of the leather. He began backing down the tunnel pulling Andtuariel with him on the leather piece. ‘Sorry about the bumpy ride,’ he said, smiling at her as they jostled over a particularly rocky section of the tunnel floor. ‘Soon we’ll be in the main cavern, where the healer is waiting.’ Annû and Elwë took turns cradling the Elf’s booted leg as they inched toward the main cavern.

Finally, Carandû could just hear Galhardir’s voice saying, ‘Here they are!’ And hands reached down to take up the burden as he emerged from the tun

[Regin Hardhammer]

After the cave entrance was completely blocked by boulders, Marreth took a deep breath and sat down on the hard earth. Pushing boulders was painstaking labor and, although he had quite enjoyed trapping the Elves, he was glad to be done with it.

“We had better stay here and watch mates. We don’t want the Elves slipping away through some crack and escaping from under our noses. Anyways, it will be fun to sit outside and listen to the howls when they discover the jam that they're in.”

Marreth looked with content at the solid mass of rock blocking the opening completely. For once, thought Marreth, our plans seem to be working.

[Imladris]

Jarlyn peered over the top of the railing, his eyes boring holes into the drifting elven ship. The mooring lines hung limply, their arches almost trailing in the water. It seemed as if the air itself was resting from its fury the night before.

He glowered at the elven ship. Their sails were in rags, slime was smeared upon the hull. Elves had such an awful knack for complicating issues. Why did they want the Stones....why did the Corsairs want to see the Stones.

Seeing things that were best kept in whispered darkness tended to make one paranoid. It would suck the joy from life...you would always be afraid. You could not take the blows as they came, you would tense up, waiting for the blow, wondering how in Middle Earth they could ever stop it, how it could even be stopped. And the worry would eat away at them, like a parasite upon a host.

He heard a crash from behind him and he flung around. His fellow crew mates were pushing boulders from the mountain crags, blocking the entrance to the cave. His eyebrows shot up. Why would they want to do that?

With a shrug he dived into the water and began to paddle to shore. The water was cool, glimmering in the clouded sun. Pulling himself onto a bit of hard ground, he sauntered towards the cave entrance which seemed to be choking up clouds of dust.

"Why did you do that?" he asked incredulously to Marreth, gesturing towards fallen boulders. "Do you realize how you have complicated the issue?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jynne sidle up behind Marreth's shadow.

"We have trapped the vermin, killing them," said Jynne silkily. "The captain agreed to my plan --"

"Do not answer my questions, Jynne," Marreth snapped.

"So, you created a boulder slide to kill them?" asked Jarlyn. "It would have been so much easier to have a mock battle with them, pretend to flee before them, and, when they found the Stones, to set upon them in the night."

Marreth frowned and glanced at the rockslide.

"It would have taken too long," Jynne said smoothly, his dark eyes narrowing. "We would have run out of supplies skulking in the waters."

Jarlyn scooffed. "The Snowmen would have given us supplies. I think this was a convenient way for you to disguise your cowardice with cunning."

Jynne flinched. A grimace flittered across his face as he said softly, "I am not afraid of death. I value my life, and will do the utmost....to preserve it," he added in a whisper.

Jarlyn opened his mouth to retort when Marreth said, "That's enough, the both of you!"

Within the cave, there was a faint of scabbering, like rats trying to escape. A muffled voice began to shout.

[Lalwendë]

Tarn
Tarn had pushed more than his share of boulders and rocks down to the cave entrance, and now he sat contentedly chewing on a piece of dried reindeer meat which he had taken from inside his coat. He was perched close to the edge, and kept peering down to see if the trapped elves would appear. A pile of small sharp stones was at hand in case a head should manage to pop itself through the wall of rubble. He didn’t think this likely, but he would have some more good sport if this did come to pass.

The muffled sound of shouts came drifting up from behind the fallen rocks and Tarn looked around at Nilak and the corsairs, grinning. The shouts became more frantic and he heard some screaming, which made him laugh “Go on, scream like women in a thunderstorm!” he thought to himself, “You’re trapped in the Cave of the Dead and you’re all going to be food for the little fishies”

Tarn cast an eye out to sea. It was getting closer to noon. The tide was coming in, and it looked like it would be a high one. He saw the gulls coming closer to shore and below them the great shoals of fish which only came so far in on the highest of tides. He thought of the water filling up the cave, putting out the lanterns, consuming those trapped within, and how it would recede when it had claimed them all, only to wash up again and again until it had made skeletons of them all. A shudder crept down his spine as he thought of it, and shaking the thought off, he turned to the others to tell them about the tide.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Returning speedily to the front entrance, Luindal stared in disbelief at the outer tunnel where they had come through just a few hours before: it was now totally blocked off by rocks and boulders. Bending down to examine the spot more closely, Luindal could not see a shred of daylight. The twisting tunnel was inky black, with stones packed tight against the opening. Worst of all, the tide was beginning to pound against the sandy shore. Only an hour or so, and the greedy waves were likely to swallow up the cave, even the main cavern in which they stood. Several inches of water already lapped around his feet, while most of the smaller tunnels were wholly impassable. Even if the waves did not overwhelm the front entrance, the water that had flooded the side tunnels would ultimately come rushing into the main cavern, since it had nowhere else to go.

Alahaseey had spoken of an occasional rock that came crashing down from the hill onto the shoreline below, but she had never warned of a general landslide that could block off the entrance trapping the searchers inside. A cluster of Elves and Lossoth were crowded about the entry tunnel, frantically attempting to clear out whatever stones and rubble they could. Yet,even with the aid of picks, their work was proceeding slowly: they could not outpace the rushing waves.

Rôg had come back with Annû and Elwë and the Elf who had been injured in the side cavern. Luindal gestured to the small brown bat to come over and speak. "Are there any other ways out of this cave?" For the caves the Elf had known as a young lad often had more than one entrance.

"No," Rôg squeaked. "When I flew in, the first thing I did was to check all the passages. There is no other way in or out."

"Then we are in a mess indeed. For the front opening is crammed with a thick wall of rubble and rock, quite heavy stuff, and I see little chance of tunnelling to the other side."

Rôg's small brown eyes suddenly lit up and he cocked his head sideways, as if he wanted to say something. "Well, out with it, my friend," Luindal prodded. "I have no idea what to do next. If you have any good ideas, share them now, or none of us will be left to hear them...."

[Taralphiel]

Freyn stood in the open cavern, clambering in as much of an ordered fashion as he could, attempting to clear the stone from the entrance. He felt the slapping of puddles of water against the soles of his boots, and breathed heavily. In the back of his mind, the warning of his gut rang out.

‘Aye, I knew there would be happenings…but this…’ he thought to himself.

He had no time to finish his musings, for he heard a call ring out for his aid. One of the Elves had injured her leg, and he saw them carrying her in on a makeshift stretcher.

As they eased her down, he peered over her damaged leg. She winced as he carefully touched the swelling, and mumbled.

“I shall bandage it, and that should help it stay from any more damage…but I’ll wager you’ll be carried the rest of the way…”

Reaching into his waist pack, he took out some thin bandages, and wasted no time in bandaging the swollen ankle. Grinning lightly at his handiwork, and securing her boot, he said.

“There, that is all that can be done for now…” he said, stretching back up and smiling wearily. Casting an eye over his shoulder, he went back to his musing.

‘A fine fix we have ourselves in’ he thought.

[Rinfanawen]

Diera sat atop the stony ground that was previously adorned in many monstrous boulders. The boulders, however, now found their resting place securely on the ground below. Diera laughed in delight. She sat staring out into the wide ocean before her. The waves tossed calmly against the shore. Two opposing vessels sat still atop the water. A slight wind blew through the air, making the towering sails from both ships sway as if it danced upon the sky. The sun shone down mercilessly onto the corsair-filled lands. If there were any remaining Elves, which were not trapped within the rock walls of the cave, they could not be seen by Diera at that moment. Even at this point, though, Diera would not have noticed them if they were, for she sat gazing into the sea.

Her thoughts filled with pleasure as she stared into the deep, blue world at the land’s edge. Oh, how she wished she could be out there again. She thought honestly to herself, Nothing is more peaceful, than to be out at sea, roaming wherever my ship may take me. Such a wondrous place it is out there...so exotic and untamed by mortal hands. I wish one day to see it all. Suddenly a most irksome brawl broke even her most serene thoughts. She turned to see Jynne standing beside Marreth near the edge. Jynne seemed to be arguing down at Jarlyn below, but even beyond them, another cry could be heard.

“It’s the Elves,” she said aloud. A few of the crewmembers stopped and listened intently to the screams coming from inside the cave.

“That's enough, the both of you!” Marreth said suddenly. Even Jynne now stood quietly listening to the commotion below.

Diera almost felt an urge to break out in laughter, but she smiled wickedly instead. “It won’t be long now,” she said, half to herself and half to anyone who was listening. “The Elves have no way out. What else can they do but find the Palantiri?”

Sounds could be heard below of not only screams for help, but also rustling, as if they were trying to push some of the boulders away from the opening. It’s impossible,Diera thought. It was hard enough pushing those stone down there. They’ll never be able to move them. She looked back out to sea. The Elven ship rocked smoothly as the waves beat against its curved frame. The Elves will be gone, and the seeing stones will be ours.

[piosenniel]

Rôg flew to the blocked exit and crawled about on the large stones that now filled it. Taking wing once again, he flew back to Luindal, landing softly on his shoulder. ‘I think I can find a way out. It may take some time, but there are small cracks where the edges of the rocks don’t meet. Bat’s can squeeze through some very narrow passages. I’ll get out and fly to the ship for help.’

Luindal brought a torch near the avalanche of boulders and inspected the face of it. He cast a skeptical eye at the bat. ‘Small as you are, these crevices look even smaller.’

‘What else is there to do, my friend?’ returned Rôg. ‘The tide is coming in . . . even now it has crept through the lower crevices in the piled rocks and licks at the soles of your boots. The sea is relentless; you know that well. It will inch in further and higher as the hours wear on. Men and Elves will be picked up and tossed about as it flows in and retreats, again and again. And even those who can manage to float to the top will sooner or later succumb to its frigid waters. We must get help to get out soon.’ He cocked his head to one side as he disengaged his clawed feet from the Elf’s over-tunic. ‘Let me try.’

It was a short glide to where the rocks jammed into the exit of the cavern. Rôg clung to the rough surface of the boulders and then began to carefully crawl about. At last, he found a narrow crack that he could ease himself through, this leading into another search for a further passage. A sense of urgency pushed him forward. He could hear below him, the sea seething low, seeking its way in. At last the scent of the sea air beyond the cavern grew stronger, and the high pitched sounds the little bat had been sending out faded into a clear distance and did not return.

The passageway he’d found grew narrower; it pressed closely on him as he inched forward, his goal in sight. He was almost out. His nose felt the breeze and he brought his leathery wings forward, the claws on them scraping along the ragged surface, pulling him forward. Rôg poked his head out, straining to catch some dim sight of where the Elven ship lay at anchor. He could not see it, but as he cast his gaze to the right, he saw two vague figures go scurrying away . . . like large dark crabs scuttling off along the upper part of the beach . . .

With a last push, he pulled one wing free and then made to free the other one . . . but the crevice had narrowed to a slit on that side and his wing caught on a jagged surface, tearing the thin membrane in a ragged line. Rôg pulled back, he knew the wing was injured enough that he could not fly. Turning carefully around he made his way back toward the cavern. He was bleeding and felt tired, light-headed as he dragged himself through the last passage way. With one final thrust he found himself in the cavern. He raised his little head, trying to focus on the few torches that were still lit. His claws lost purchase and he tumbled from his precarious grasp on the rock surface.

The cold water hit him as he fell. ‘Luindal,’ he cried, changing back to mannish form. ‘Are you near? I could not get through . . .’

[Arry]

Annû was standing with his brother near the blocked cavern exit. He thought that if they could not get out before the water rose, they could at least cling onto the edges of the rocks as the tide came up. And perhaps as the water moved against the obstructing rocks, it might knock a few loose – at least enough for the Elves and Lossoth to push against them and move a few out of the way.

It was a slim chance at best . . . but he could think of no other.

He gasped and stepped back quickly in the now ankle high water in the cavern as something large plopped at his feet. Thinking at first that it might be some part of the cavern ceiling falling down, he yelled for others to watch out, move away from the cavern’s exit. He gasped again as whatever had fallen began to speak. Coming nearer, he recognized the weak voice of the skinchanger. Reaching down a hand, he hauled the man up and called for his brother to help keep him standing. One of Rôg’s arms seemed to have a large, long gash in it and was bleeding profusely.

‘Someone get the Captain and Freyn,’ shouted Carandû, as Galhardir stepped closer with his sputtering torch to give some light.

[Child of the 7th Age]

As soon as Luindal heard the sound of anxious voices coming from the front of the cave, he turned and sprinted forward to where a number of Elves and Lossoth had gathered near the tunnel entrance. A quick look at his friend confirmed that something had gone very wrong. The small bat had disappeared and, in its place, was a familiar human form. Rôg's face looked ashen. He cradled his arm against his body, with blood still flowing from the wound. The shapechanger was no longer standing but had slipped to the ground, the water washing against his legs. Annû sat beside him, helping to prop him up. Freyn rushed forward to kneel beside his patient and triy to tend the wounds.

"Of all the devilry!" Luindal exclaimed. "I should never have let you go. What mischief has happened to you?"

"The rocks. The rocks were packed too tight. I came within a hair's breadth. I could even see outside, but I could not push through." The sadness and frustration in Rôg's voice were evident.

"Could you see anything? Is anyone about to help us?"

"I thought I saw two shadows flit by, but whether these were men or beasts, I do not know. And even if Men, they seemed to be leaving the shore."

In his desire to aid his friend, Rôg made a feeble effort to rise but then slumped against Annû's arm. Reaching out a hand and placing it on Rôg's shoulder, Luindal spoke, "Rest friend, but do not give up hope. We will figure out something to get us out of this quandry." He spoke loudly and clearly so that all his companions could hear. Then he drew away from the group, walking alone to the back of the cave, and found a quiet cove where he could sit and think. Luindal crouched down, putting his fingers to his temple and began to concentrate, drawing up an image of the ship and the Elves who had stayed behind. I should have thought of this before, but I am no Noldor or one of the ancient ones who is used to having so much on my head. I will just have to do the best I can. Let us hope that these walls are not impenetrable...... Hear me, then, Thalion, my companion from the woods of Lorien. This is Luindal. The men and I are trapped in the cave with great rocks blocking our path. Bring ropes and a winch and volunteers to dig. Come soon or we may perish in the wild waters of the Bay, which threaten to overwhelm us.

With that he turned and waited......

[Arry]

Annû was right – as the tide rose, pounding onto the land with greater force, it loosened the large rocks that had cascaded down in front of the cavern’s entrance. He and his brother had climbed up to the top of the small entrance, onto an overhanging ledge which jutted out just above it, and two other of the Elves along with Galhardir had fount foot holds up the cavern wall that surrounded the opening. They doused their hardwood brands, leaving the feeble light of those others that still had enough fuel to remain lit to be held up near the entrance so that they might see what they were doing.

The tide water was waist high now for those on the cavern floor, and they clung to ropes secured to some of the bigger, taller rocks in the cavern to keep them from being tumbled over as the tide seethed in and out. Annû, Galhardir and the other two Elves wedged their brands into the crevices of the upper rock pile. Carrandû lay flat on his stomach with his brand abutting the face of one of the top rocks. As the tide fled out, the lower parts of the pile grumbled, and groaned, and scraped against each other as the water pulled on them. With a mighty effort the four Elves and Lossoth man strove to move the top rock. Five times they heaved their strength against it, and on the fifth it teetered and crashed into the waiting sea below.

Late afternoon light flooded in through the small hole and the keen eyes of Carrandû could see the waters of the bay and the place where their ship was anchored. ‘Captain!’ he cried nearly tumbling himself from the ledge. ‘I can just see two longboats filled with crew from the ship. They row mightily with the tide and should be here within the hour.’ A cheer of relief came up from those below. ‘Annû motioned for the group to squeeze up on the ledges above the frigid water. ‘Huddle together – Galhardir says. It will be of little help for our mates to arrive for the rescue if most of us have frozen to death in water.’

Galhardir nodded his head as those on the ledges threw down ropes to help those still in the rising water clamber up. Soon, wet and dripping, the lot were up above the waters, crouching together. One of the Elves, a slender fellow, eyed the small hole left by the rock. He shed his bulky outer garments and squeezed through to the outside. Freyn handed over a large strip of cloth he had brought for bandages and the Elf used it as a signal flag.

Catching sight of one of their own hailing them, the Elves in the longboats bent forcefully to their task, their oars cleaving the waves as they hastened to their companions.

[piosenniel]

Rôg breathed a quiet sigh of relief as the sunlight found its way into the darkness of the cavern. His left arm wasn’t hurting as badly as it had been, or so it seemed. It had stopped bleeding, thanks to the bandage and herbs Freyn had applied, and if truth be told, the man from the South was so cold that he really couldn’t tell any longer if it pained him or no. Luindal and another of the Elves had dragged him up to a ledge, safe from the waters below. The injured Elf woman was there also, her brother crouched down close to her, trying to keep her warm.

The loose rock on the ledge was beginning to dig into his right side, and he sat up hoping to ease that discomfort. His head spun a little as he did so, and he would have fallen from the ledge save for the Elf Luindal had stationed to keep watch over him. From his vantage point he could see the two Elf brothers and the Lossoth who had been searching with them. They were all still engaged in trying to clear the fallen rock from the entrance. Rôg found it interesting to consider how so much rock had fallen so neatly in front of the cavern’s entrance. Surely they could not have just decided to all let loose their moorings and come tumbling down . . . and if it had been some quaking of the earth, why hadn’t they felt it more strongly in the cavern . . . wouldn’t the ground beneath their feet have been trembling, cracks open, and the rocks in the cavern fall down?

In the back of the cavern, he noted there was a small group of Elves and several of the Lossoth. Two of the Elves were talking in an animated manner, the one holding the lit brand gesturing wildly with it – pointing often toward the water. Rôg could see the looks on the faces of the other Elves and Lossoth concerned were grim. ‘What is going on down there?’ he asked of the Elf near him. The Elf climbed down to the floor on the cavern, the water was now mid-thigh as he made his way to where Rôg had pointed.

Rôg could see two of the Elves at the back put their arms about the one who had been gesturing and drag him gently, but firmly, away from the area. They were shaking their heads in a resigned manner. As they moved out of the way, Rôg could see the three Lossoth all in each others’ arms, looking as if they were about to wail. And indeed an eerie keening sound began, spiraling round the cavern in sorrowful waves. Luindal could be seen hurrying toward where the commotion had begun. Rôg could see him speaking quietly to the Lossoth and to the stricken Elf.

‘It is as I feared,’ said Rôg’s companion as he climbed back up to where the skinchanger sat. The Elf’s face was grim, lined with sadness. ‘The rising tide has completely flooded the smaller caverns that lead off the main cave. In the darkness and the confusion of the rockslide, we did not notice that two of the searchers had gone missing. One of the crew, and the Lossoth who was his search partner never came out of the back cavern they had gone down into. With the water this high, their cavern will be flooded. We cannot reach the Elf with our thoughts. He is gone. And the Lossoth, too is surely lost . . .’

Rôg’s heart lurched . . . surely he had gone down that tunnel and warned those two . . . there had been so many . . . he had tried to be careful . . . this could not be . . .

There were cries from the front of the cavern. Annû was waving wildly at those away from the cavern’s entrance. His brother had seen the long boats tie up to the large rocks near the cave. The crew were already climbing the rocks that blocked the cave’s entrance, tools in hand . . .

‘They are here!’ cried Carrandû in a loud voice. The sounds of the crew and their implements could be heard working at the stony impasse . . .

[Orofaniel]

Galhardir was somewhat relieved, although he knew it wasn't over yet. He'd heard Carandû's voice calling out that they would soon be out of the cavern, but Galhardir could know nothing for certain. He wondered what Rodhal was doing at the ship and if he'd noticed how the tide had come over them all of a sudden. He wouldn't know the consequences of it though, would he?

All of them stood close each other on ledges. Galhardir could feel the rocks beneath his feet a bit unsteady, but they would manage to hold him for some time. The water became higher and higher for every minute, although it would still take some time until it reached them.

Galhardir wondered if they had overlooked anything while they walked in the tunnels. What if they had? What if the thing they were looking for had been just beneath their very noses, and they hadn't found it. How dreadful. Had the whole day been in vain? Had the crew been looking for something that wasn't really there after all? This made Galhardir confused and rather annoyed. He should probably never have gotten himself into this.

Then another thought rushed into his head; how had these rocks suddenly blocked their way in front of the entrance? How was that possible? Galhardir could recall hearing any big rocks falling down from anywhere while he walked the tunnels. Yet, this could be the situation, but he somehow doubted it.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Luindal had been the last to seek safety on the ledge. At first he had been wholly occupied by the pressing need to find a means of escape for his companions. After making sure his message had reached the Elves who remained behind on the Spirit, he had darted back and forth, making sure that Freyn attended to all the injured and that everyone was safely removed from the frigid waters.

At his suggestion, the Elves and Lossoth had strapped ropes about their waists, linking themselves together in groups of two or three. Once the rocks gave way, there would be a rush of water, and it would not do to have the smallest or weakest pushed under by the pounding waves. They would stand a better chance if they linked arms and helped each other to push through against the rushing water.

Now all he could do was sit and wait. Outiside, he could hear the welcome sound of picks and hands clawing away at the thick wall of stone and rubble imprisoning them, and watched as his own crew attempted to push out the stones from inside with some success. The water below now looked to be some four feet deep. They would need to move quickly when the last stone fell.

Yet still knawing at the back of Luindal's mind was the grim scene that had occurred earlier inside the tunnel. He had extended his thoughts outward and touched one of the Elves, trapped with his Lossoth companion inside a narrow cleft of rock with the water relentlessly pouring in. One instant, there had been a quavering response laden with fear, and the next, nothing: only emptiness and shadow. To leave behind two companions in a watery grave seemed a hard thing indeed when they had only been here for less than a day.

A thundering crash put an abrupt halt to these ruminations. Outside, two boulders had been pried loose and heaved aside from the entrance so that the hole was large enough for a man ofr Elf to get through as long as he bent low, crouching near the ground. The waves surged forward with great force, but close behind came a familiar Elvish voice. The next moment, one of the rescuers stood firm inside the cavern amid the swirling waters, urging them to spring down from the ledge and come forward to leave the cave as quickly as they could. In groups of two and three, they approached the opening and crawled through with difficulty, coughing and spluttering, as the waves beat rhythmically against the walls of the cavern. After a time, each one managed to push their way through to the outside. Thoroughly cold and drenched, they waited for the longboats to bear them to the safety of the ship.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth's mood was sullen as he watched the Elves exit the cave and head for their ship on longboats. The Elves had gotten the message out to some of their allies outside the cave. Their rescuers had managed to create a large enough hole in the sheet of rocks blocking the entrance that would allow the prisoners inside a method of escape.

“Infernal Elf vermin, Lossoth dogs, may my hate for you be stronger than the waves of the stormy sea." Marreth sourly reflected that nothing in this quest for the past few months had turned out the way it was expectged to. Marreth wondered how the imprisoned Elves had possibly managed to alert their rescuers. Probably some of their devlish feats of magic and power! Scowling, Marreth resisted the temptation to hurl a rock at the head of an Elf as he boarded the ship. That would only reveal their presence to the departing band, making them agitated and compromising the safety of his own crew. He needed to return to the ship and think of a new, better plan to eliminate the Elves.

After the boats had all departed, he motioned to his crew to follow him down the cliff and back to the ship. On the way, he tried to think of some new strategy the Corsairs could employ, but was thoroughly stumped. Then, when he reached his quarters, Marreth remembered the mysterious Snowman and what he had said to the stranger in their last meeting: Watch for the flash of the lantern at sunset. Of course, how foolish! I shall find out the plans of the Elves and surprise them again. Only this time, I will not be so gentle. As the sun lowered onto the horizon, Marreth took his lantern to the window of his ship and flashed it three times. His plan would not fail again.

[Arry]

The mood as they returned to The Sea-Spirit was somber. The crew who had remained on the vessel rejoiced at first that the search party had been brought safely back to the ship. But word soon spread among the Elves and Lossoth that lives had been lost. The entrance to the cavern had been blocked. An unfortunate landslide it was said.

Carandû and his brother had retired to their cabin once all had been brought aboard. Galhardir and Rodhal had gone to the galley for something to eat and to talk with the other Lossoth. Carandû had pulled the small fossil he’d found in the cave from his pouch and laid it carefully on the boy’s bunk.

‘Small comfort, brother,’ said Annû, taking his quiver of arrows off the peg by his bed. ‘Small comfort for one who has lost a kinsman.’ He took the small whetstone from his pack and began sharpening the edges of the arrow heads. Carandû sighed heavily, and sat down wearily on his own bunk. ‘I heard what Rôg said when he returned from trying to get out to find aid,’ Annû continued, bent over his work. ‘You remember – the two vague figures who scurried away.’

‘Hardly a definitive sighting,’ said Carandû. ‘He saw them as a bat, didn’t he? Which means, really, that he couldn’t see anything clearly, if at all.’ He scratched his head absent-mindedly as he watched his brother hone the arrowheads carefully, one after the next. ‘Still, don’t you find it odd that there was a “landslide” – and yet we felt no tremors in the caverns.’

Annû’s grey eyes met those of his brother. ‘I do indeed find it odd. And I wonder if those rocks had a little “help” in finding their way to the area in front of the cavern’s entrance.’ Carandû pulled out his sword from beneath his bunk and unsheathed it with a practiced hand. He turned it this way and that, sighting down the sharp edge of the blade, as he held it to the light. He fished about in his own pack for his whetstone and began to run it down each side of the edge.

Silence filled the small room, save for the swish-swish as the arrow heads and sword edge grew sharp. Old habits are not easily put aside. The practice of making ready ones’ weapons against the threat of attack had been ingrained in the two Elves those many years they had served as warriors in Imladris. Their hands recalled the familiar disciplined movements as their minds began to consider the possibilities of how the deaths of their two search companions might have come about.

[Niluial]

The cabin of the ship swayed gently on the lolling ocean. The sheer curtains that framed the windows fluttered in the cool night breeze. Moonlight bathed the carved benches and splashed pinkly on the rose red cushions. Easing Andtuariel into a becushioned chair, Elwë wrapped a thick woolen blanket around Andtuariel and made sure her leg was firmly supported. “By the look of it you won’t be walking for a few days. Your leg isn’t looking too good.” He said desolately. Elwë looked at Andtuariel’s pale yet lovely face which shone in the candle light. He liked to catch her thus, her eyes bright even though she felt pain, her skin soft and pale and her lips slightly apart the way they always were when she was in deep thought. The candlelight shone richly in the deep browns and reds in her hair. Silence fell upon the room as they both sat and thought about their danger riddled day and how close they had come to death.

Andtuariel sighed deeply and Elwë lifted his head, “is it hurting badly?” he asked with a worried expression on his tired face.

“No not too much. You know me I am strong and I can endure a lot.”

“Yes, you never seize to amaze me. I do not know of many females who could cope with what you have today.” Elwë smiled slightly.

“Is Carandû safe?”

“Yes, Carandû is fine.”

“what about Annû?”

“Annû is fine too! Though we did lose a few crew members.”

Silence fell upon the room once again. “You need some sleep; you need that leg to heal fast. The palantiri is out there somewhere; you do not wish to lose out on the fun, now do you?” Elwë said with a slight trail of teasing in his voice.

“Before you go please won’t you close the curtain for me, the moon is bright this evening.”

Elwë did so but before he left he lent down and gave Andtuariel a soft, intimate kiss on the lips. Andtuariel fell silent, not even her breathing could be heard. “Good night” Elwë said.

[Imladris]

They were back on the ship now. Marreth was in a nasty mood because the filthy pure ones had escaped. Jarlyn's face wore an I-told-you-so mask. Jynne glared moodily at the both of them from under his heavy brows.

Jarlyn. Jynne's eyes narrowed, and his lips slid into a sneer. The dog. Accusing him of cowardice. Always looking at him suspiciously. Jynne made ready to spit, but caught himself just in time. No...it would not do to ruin all before the time came.

Marreth was pacing restlessly across the cabin, casting impatient glances as the sun went down. Suddenly, he lit a latern and winked it three times in succession. Jarlyn's brow arched, but Jynne peered at him.

That was a signal. Who could Marreth be signaling to? Jynne's eyes narrowed to black slits.

Jarlyn spoke up, "What are you doing, Marreth?"

Marreth turned, and flicked a glance at Jynne. A thin smile stretched the Corsair's face. Couldn't tell his dear pal what he was up to with nasty, slinking Jynne around, could he. Well...then nasty slinking Jynne would just leave.

Slipping to his feet, Jynne asked, "I'm going to get a tankard of ale. Want some anyone?"

Jarlyn -- how predicatble -- nodded and eagerly asked for some. Marreth glowered at him and then nodded his acceptance as well.

Hovering in the shadows, Jynne slipped through the door and made his way towards the cook's quarters. He took down three wooden mugs and notched the rim of one with a knife that had been left carelessly on a barrel.

Slipping his hand underneath cloak, he unhooked a small leather bag that was filled with even smaller bags. Carefully he selected one and extracted a soft green sprig with a cluster of small white flowers. A thin smile stretched his face.

With his long brown fingers, he began to shred the green leaves, pouring them into the cup. Tenderly he plucked the dainty white petals and let them float for a long while in the ale. He was not concerned with how long he was taking. Let them wait...let them talk of their plans...

When he was satisifed, he fished some of the leaves and petals out of the ale and threw them overboard. He didn't want the drink over powered...

Balancing the third mug on his head, Jynne slunk through the shadows until he reached the captain's lodge.

"What took you?" said Jarlyn with false cheer, for his eyes had narrowed when Jynne slipped in.

Jynne merely smiled and shrugged, handing the captain and Jarlyn their mugs. He slightly raised his mug in toast, and drunk deeply so that none would see the malicious grin.

Jarlyn yelped and said, "By a Dwarf's beard, I almost got a splinter!" He examined the mug carefully, and said, "Oh look! Something notched the rim...ah well...such is the life of a mug that is forever in battle or on a long journey." Winking a Marreth, he raised the mug to his lips, and drained it.

[Rinfanawen]

The sky had grown dark as a grim nightfall crept over the sea. Diera sat on the edge of the boat letting one leg hang over the side. She kept the other bent to where she could rest her arms and chin upon her knee. She sighed deeply. Their plan had been perfect. Nothing was going to go wrong. Nothing should have gone wrong, She thought in the depths of her foul mood. She looked out towards the land in anguish. She had failed. She had failed greatly, and now the Elves had escaped. “Despicable fiends,” she said aloud as if speaking to the Elves, but she knew none of them could hear her. It made her feel better though. Somehow, it just seemed to help.

Hardly any light could be seen on the shore. The pale light from the moon and stars cast dim shadows over some things upon the land. There never seemed to be enough light to make out distinct objects. She imagined what the shore looked like in daylight. Such a dreadful thought it was to her. Diera hated the land even more than she did the Elves. Feeling an ill feeling come over her, she stepped down from where she sat and laid on a bench nearby. The stars reflected in her dark eyes that night. Her sorrow-filled face glowed under the light of the moon.

Suddenly quick footsteps were heard on the deck and were followed by a friendly voice. “You look depressed,” Doyal commented as he approached.

Diera placed her wide-brimmed, brown hat firmly over her face. She sighed, “What would you know of it?” She turned her face to where one eye peered out from under the hat. She almost began to laugh at the comical expression on Doyal’s face.

“I know,” began Doyal, “that you are always depressed when things do not go as planned.”

“I am not,” argued Diera, hiding her face once again beneath the hat.

Doyal laughed. “Yes, you are. Just because you don’t show it half the time doesn’t mean you aren’t. I know you better than that.”

“Too well, I fear sometimes,” Diera said removing the hat from her face, and placing it atop her shoulder-length, brown hair. She sat up on the bench and let Doyal take a seat as well. Diera continued, “And I’m not depressed. I’m just frustrated.”

“Well, don’t be,” comforted Doyal. “It’s not your fault the Elves escaped, so stop beating yourself up over it. Besides, it’s wouldn’t be natural for Captain Marreth to give up so soon.”

Diera nodded in agreement, but a strange light on the ship caught her eye and her attention. What’s that? she thought, standing. The light flashed three times toward the land.

“What is it?” Doyal asked joining her.

Diera smiled wickedly. “A signal.”

[Child of the 7th Age]

Boarding the ship with a heavy heart, Luindal immediately retreated to his cabin and was surprised to find both Alahseey and Hilde waiting for him there.

Hilde scurried up to address him, still clutching her broom and cleaning rags. “I am pleased to see that you and the others came through alright. At least most of the others," Hilde nervously averted her eyes and pursed her lips, wondering if she should say more. News of the loss of the two men had already spread through the ship. She quickly added, “Don’t blame yourself, sir. Those caves were never safe. I’ll never understand why anyone would tell you to search there. Too dangerous, if you ask me. It's a wonder any of you made it out alive." She cast a ponted look at Alahseey and then turned back to Luindal, smiling. "I didn't think you'd mind, Captain. Elder Alahssey rushed here right after we got the news of the landslide. She seemed very anxious to wait and talk with you so I let her in.”

“That’s fine, Hilde. Would you like to go down and eat supper now? You’ve worked hard today too. I understand something is being prepared in the galley.”

“Yes, sir. That would be fine. I’ll get my things and go.” Hilde was about to slip out the door when Alahseey gestured with her hand for her to remain and explained, “What I have to say concerns both of you.”

First the Elder questioned Luindal, “You are alright? And the men? After what happened....”

“As well as can be expected. We found no sign of the Stones and two of our party were swallowed up by waters that flooded the side tunnels: one of the Elves from Rivendell and his Lossoth companion”

“Sadly, we have heard. The Elders have sent someone to speak with the family of the man who was killed. The caves seemed like such a promising place to search. Yet the Elders debated whether to send you there first because of the dangers. Still, we felt there was a real possibility of finding the Stones.”

Luindal sighed and said, “Promising or not, we found nothing.”

“Aye, and the Council of Elders met again this afternoon, trying to decide where you should search next if you returned with your hands empty. Some said you should head straight to the Bay and begin to plumb its depths before the waters became too cold. But then I remembered this.”

She put her hand in her pocket and withdrew an oblong-shaped rock that was no larger than a Man’s palm, on which could be seen inscribed letters. Luindal reached out to finger the piece, then peered at it more closely.

“These are Elvish runes….fragments of a script that would seem to come from a time even before I was born.” He traced the letters with the tip of his finger.

“Aye, it looked peculiar to me too. And I have seen others like it in the same area. When I showed the letters to the Elders, one of them thought it looked like the script he’d seen you and the other Elves use. This comes from a place north of here, about a one-day trek, a stretch of coastline along the Bay that has already seen much ice and snow.” With that Alahseey drew out a map and pointed to the spot where she had found the strange stone. She handed the paper to Lindal to keep and he carefully circled the spot on the map to which Alahseey had referred.

“You think some of the shipwrecked things made their way to this point?” he queried.

Alahseey shrugged her shoulders, “Perhaps. I have seen some strange things in this region. And, if that is so, it is possible the Stones could have landed there too. It is a land both Hilde and I know well, for we both hail from that portion of the Bay. My reindeer herds spend the summer there. The two of us could easily lead you north.” Hilde smiled and nodded her head in agreement.

Luindal remarked, “This seems like a good idea. And, for now at least, I would rather wait to search the Bay. But we need to rest and recover. It would do no good to lead the men out when they are still exhausted and disheartened. I would say two days' rest are needed.... I will tell them to be ready on the third morning to set out for this northern shore, and to plan to stay overnight there.”

“Yes,” added Hilde, “I’ll be glad to help scout the passage and, once we've gotten there, can show you how to build an ice trench, to keep your men warm and comfortable thoroughout the cold night.”

Luindal had to smile at the thought of an ice trench being called warm and comfortable. But he was not unhappy with the suggestion to search further along the shore, since they still had not come up with a practical plan on how to search for the Stones on the bottom of the Bay. "It is agreed then. I will speak with my crew later tonight."

Saying good night to Hilde and Alahseey, Luindal left the map on his desk and then wandered down towards Rôg's cabin, knocking on the door. But before the Shapechanger could respond, the Captain slipped his hand into his pocket and felt the scrap of fabric and button that he'd picked up in the cave. Perhaps, Rôg could tell him which of the men had lost it....

[Arry]

Carandû set aside his blade on the coverlet of his bunk. He’d honed the edge to razor sharpness and now he took up his knife to do like. ‘You know, brother,’ he said as he ran the edge this way and that across the whetstone, ‘perhaps we should speak with the Captain about our suspicions.’ He took his oiled rag and wiped along the blade of the knife, removing the metal scrapings. ‘I’m sure he has thought along these same lines himself, but I’d feel better if he heard what we had thought on it, also.’

‘Annû held up a fistful of arrows he still intended to sharpen. ‘Let me finish these,’ he put in. ‘Or better yet, let me stay here and you go down to the Captain’s cabin and speak with him.’ Carandû agreed, and putting away his knife and sword, pulled on his boots and headed down the passageway to see Luindal.

The door was ajar when he arrived. He called the Captain’s name and rapped twice on the door. There was no answer, but the door swung open and Carandû stepped in to see if Luindal might be in by any chance and had not heard him. A lamp, turned low, which sat on the desk, cast enough light for him to peek about. No one was in the cabin and Carandû stepped back toward the door to leave.

‘I should turn out the light,’ he thought to himself as he retreated back toward the desk. ‘Wouldn’t want it to be knocked over and start a fire.’ He leaned over the desk toward it, his eye caught by a map of the bay left lying atop it, a certain area circled for emphasis. ‘What’s this, I wonder?’ he said half aloud picking up the map to take a closer look.

The sound of footsteps stopping outside the opened door made him turn. There stood a Lossoth woman. Tall and thin, her grey hair in two braids, she watched him with narrowed eyes. Now what was her name?

‘Hilde!’ he said, laying the map down on the desk and turning off the lamp. Carandû stepped out to the hallway where she stood, closing the door behind him. She looked up at him, giving him an appraising look. ‘The Captain - I was looking for the Captain,’ he said to her. ‘Have you seen him?’

She shook her head and scurried off down the hall.

Wondering at her abrupt departure, Carandû returned to his room. ‘He wasn’t there,’ he told his brother. ‘It’ll have to wait ‘til tomorrow,’ he went on yawning widely. ‘I’m tired. Leave the lamp lit for Glahardir and his nephew. Then let’s turn in.’

[piosenniel]

Rôg heaved himself up from the chair at the knocking on the door. A sharp pain ripped through his upper left arm where Freyn had applied the poultice and bandage. He plopped his backside back on the chair’s seat and called out a rather annoyed ‘It’s open!’ to the unexpected visitor. He was still grumbling and rubbing his arm gently when the door swung open.

Luindal peeked round the edge, his brows raised in query. ‘You alright?’ he asked, seeing the Skinchanger’s pale face.

Rôg waved him in with his right hand. ‘I’ll be alright, or so Freyn tells me . . . in a day or so. Afraid I’ll be somewhat out of commission until then.’ Luindal had taken the other chair in the room and sat distractedly fingering something. Rôg cleared his throat, drawing the captain’s attention back to himself. ‘Was there something you wanted to speak with me about?’ He held out his open hand to Luindal as he continued speaking. ‘And what in blazes is that you have in your fingers. Why’s it so interesting?’

The scrap of thick brown cloth passed from the Elf’s fingers to his friend’s. Rôg looked it over, asking where the captain had found it. Once told, Rôg pursed his lips and mumbled a something under his breath. ‘You found this in the cavern?’ he asked. ‘How interesting!’ His fingers rubbed over the small, worn design on the button. ‘It's hard to see, but I could swear that this engraving is a southron motif. A seabird in flight . . . a favored one among the seamen there – brings good luck to its wearer. Interesting . . .’ he trailed off, handing the cloth back to Luindal. ‘The color of the material is similar to that I glimpsed on one of the figures I glimpsed in my unfortunate attempt to get us help. Of course, brown is a very common color. The two are probably unrelated.’

Luindal tucked the returned scrap into his pocket as Rôg reached for a small notebook which lay on the bunk behind him. ‘I’ve been giving some thought to searching the bay . . .’ The Elf spoke up before Rôg could finish his sentence. ‘We may not need to,’ he said, filling Rôg in on what the Lossoth elder, Alahseey had shown him, and where she proposed the Elves should search next. ‘She offered to lead us there in a few days.’

‘May fortune smile on us, then,’ commented Rôg. ‘But . . . in case she turns her fickle face away, come closer and let’s look over these things I’ve jotted down. I’ve been talking to Bear about some of this; he’s given me some ideas.’ He turned the notebook around so that it faced Luindal, and placed it on the table between them. His inkstained forefinger pointing to the diagrams, he laid out some ideas he had had for both himself and for any Elf who might consider himself a strong enough swimmer.

Luindal perused the drawings carefully. ‘A seal and bear’s fat, eh . . .?’

[Lalwendë]

The door to the hut flew open as Tarn unlocked it and stormed in. All that effort and those fools had escaped. They had found nothing and he hadn’t even had a chance to train his seals today. He threw the helmet into a corner, letting go some of his temper, and grasped hold of a lantern from a hook on one of the great whale bones which served as beams to hold up the roof. The lantern was a crude object, but filled with flammable whale oil, a fuel that not all the Lossoth could afford; it gave off a warm light when Tarn ignited it with an ember from deep within the dormant fire. He was frustrated about the events of the day, but his immediate concern was to get the fire going again. He turned over the embers and gradually added more fuel until he had a blaze.

Tarn busied himself with preparing a supper of coarse, flat bread, smoked herrings and warmed goats milk. He ate slowly, staring into the flames of the fire and thinking about the caves. Faces danced in the blaze and his thoughts turned to the Corsairs and Elves, and their determination to get these stones. He wanted to find them, but that was for his own ends, as they had made the promise of weapons, and maybe power, but he puzzled over the possible nature of these stones, and why these fine people were prepared to risk so much to get them. His seals could find them any number of treasures in this cold sea, but it did not seem that they wanted mere riches. The thought came to him that he ought to go to the Corsair ship, as there would no doubt be more goings on.

As he thought about what was the best course of action there was a loud and brutal knocking at the door. Putting the empty plate down he went to see who dared to disturb his rest. It was Tarlsson, holding Thynne firmly by the collar.

“So, the boy is back?” said Tarn, standing tall in the doorway. “Come in and explain”

Tarlsson was drunk, as usual, and the boy was red-faced, not daring to look at Tarn. “I found him not long ago. Was trying to have a quiet drink and in he comes. Course I asks him what the blazes he’s doing wandering, hasn’t he got work to do, and he says he thought he’d have to find some place of his own to sleep. Finds a boat to sleep in he does. Then he says he woke up and he’s been looking for you most of the day. I say how can he have been? You’re not hard to miss. And I don't doubt you've been looking for his lazy hide, too.”

Tarn realised that the lad had been telling the truth. How could he have found him if he was hidden in the caves? And he hadn’t told the lad he was to sleep in the hut while he was working for him. Still, it was right that he be shown some discipline in front of his father. Bending down and staring Thynne straight in the face he coldly told him that if he was to do such a disappearing act again then he’d be left in the Caves of the Dead. Alone. Thynne shivered, and continued to look at the floor.

“Been trouble down there I hear tell, today,” put in Tarlsson, proud that he had some gossip, and placing a foot inside the hut.

“I know. Goodnight,” said Tarn coldly, trying to shut the door on him.

“Elders have been meeting too. A right little chinwag,” offered Tarlsson, leaning his weight against the door and holding it open. “Someone’s dead, so the story is saying.”

“I know Tarlsson, but I have to have some words with your lad. Strike while the iron’s hot. You know.” It was an excuse, but Tarn did not want the man in his hut tonight, not if he decided on heading out to the ship again. Hearing that his son was to be scolded, Tarlsson nodded, and with a failed attempt to slap Tarn on the back in understanding, which missed due to his drunken state, he turned and left.

“Go and make yourself a bed in the corner,” Tarn grunted to Thynne. He had no intention of punishing the lad in any way beyond making him fear that he was going to reprimanded. Besides, he was thinking about the fact that someone was dead. He had thought they had all got out. Then it hadn’t been such a waste of a day, but he was sure there would be more to learn at the ship.

[Kitanna]

Nilak returned to his hut in a sour mood. Everything had been going great until the Elves managed to escape the cave. Everyone was still wondering on how. Nilak was furious because that meant Marreth would have his crew and the Lossoth working harder to get rid of the Elves.

That was time they could use looking for the Stones. Marreth had underestimated the Elves today and he would probably underestimate them again before all was over. Nilak wanted to return to sending his seals out. Time was being wasted getting rid of the Elves and soon it would be impossible for both sides to search for these Stones.

Nilak made up his bed close to the fire. He laid down and just watched the flames dancing about. Won't be able to sleep watching that, he thought. Turning over did not help much. He now saw the shadows the fire cast onto the wall. Nilak felt like he would never be able to sleep, but eventually he drifted off.

[Taralphiel]

Freyn was on the deck, leaning against the cool wood of the railing of the ship, his eyes closed, smiling at the gentle sway of the waters. His aged back ached from the hours he had spent hunched over the exploring party, bandages sore bones and cut skin. His thoughts dwelled too on the one they had lost, and he felt a great twinge of grief.

“He was too young…” he mumbled aloud, and a few heads turned.

Lowering his gaze to the floor, he stretched out his limbs, which gave small comfort. He threw around in his mind the happenings of the day, trying to shake the grey feeling when he thought about that landslide.

‘My warnings ring true…’ he thought to himself.

Even so, the miracle that the rest of the crew had come to rescue them was a marvel to him indeed. Freyn had seen many a man lost on a journey never to be found. Seldom had he heard of a successful rescue, or of one so marvelous. He smiled a little at this, while he tightened his coat about his shoulders and stood up.

‘Let us hope we have better fortune in our search tomorrow, and not have to rely on fortune for the rescue’ he thought.

[Orofaniel]

"Come here Rodahl," Galhardir said to his nephew. He was relieved to see him again and very proud to hear that Rodhal had managed his tasks on the ship earlier that day. "Are you hungry?" he asked. Rodhal nodded. He was indeed, very hungry. "Anything to drink?" Galhardir then asked him when Rodhal had been served bread and meat. "Yes, please," Rodhal answered, polite as always.

When both of them had settled with good food and drink, Rodhal was curious about Galhardir's adventures in the cave. Galhardir stopped for a moment. He didn't want to frighten the boy, so he decided to tell Rodhal about the other parts;

"We, the eleven bothers and myself went into loads of different tunnels, caverns and so on," Galhardir started. "It was very dark, oh, believe me; very dark," he continued. Rodhal's eyes widened, he was already caught up in Galhardir's speech. He was fascinated. “One can’t even imagine the darkness, it has to be experienced. And even then, it’s unbelievable. It’s the darkest place you’ll ever know….”

"We bore torches, all of us, but still we found fit quite difficult to see anything. Annû, poor thing managed to hurt himself.." Galhardir told the young boy who was still listening to what he said, eagerly. "Did you see anything...dangerous?" Rodhal burst out. Galhardir used a moment to think about his next reply. "Oh, no...Nothing “dangerous”. I'm thinking that all those old tales about the caverns are nothing but lies and fiction," Galhardir said, sipping his ale. Rodhal looked a bit confused, but Galhardir soon understood that it was not confusion, rather pure disappointment. "Oh wait...There was something...maybe not dangerous...but quite fascinating," Galhardir then said, just to cheer up the boy; he remembered the fossils Carandû had found. "Oh, please do tell, uncle," Rodhal cried fully of impatience.

"Carandû, you remember him, don’t you?" Galhardir started. The boy nodded, as eager as before. "Well, he found an interesting stone in one of the caverns.." Galhardir then continued. "What was on the stones?" Rodhal asked who had already understood that there was something about the stones his uncle had mentioned. "Fossils," Galhardir stated. "Fossils...."

"Really?" Rodhal asked, interested in Galhardir's story. "Really," Galhardir said finally. "I saw it with my own eyes," he continued. "But what was it?" Rodhal then asked. "I'm not sure...but there were some lines...or something of that sort," Galhardir then told the boy, who was even more impressed by what Galhardir told him than he would have thought.

"Now, eat you meat," Galhardir said as he saw that Rodhal's plate was still full. "I will, uncle," he smiled. "It's your turn to tell me how you climbed up to the look out post..." Galhardir then said teasingly. "Oh, I had almost forgotten!" Rodhal exclaimed.

Rodhal’s story then followed, something Galhardir found almost as interesting as his own story about the fossils.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth grinned broadly as he walked back down the road from the place of his meeting with the mysterious Lossoth. Once again, their meeting had been a very enlightening one. Marreth had learned that the Elves aimed to search in an area of the bay about a day’s journey further to the north. He had even been presented with a hand drawn map that had the exact location circled. Apparently, some wreckage had been found there bearing Elvish script. Marreth had been extremely disappointed when the Elves were able to escape the cave, but he realized that they must be gotten rid of if the Corsairs were to find the Stones.

He reflected on his good fortune in having such a useful informant. We will get the better of these Elves yet! And this time I will not be so easy on them.

Returning to the ship, Marreth immediately summoned his men together for another meeting. He even sent a special messenger out bearing messages for those Lossoth who were presently off the ship, having chosen to return to their own families and kin for the night.

At first, the crew looked sour, but were soon brought around by promises that their next expedition would prove far more enjoyable than the one they'd had that afternoon. Marreth leapt onto the top of a barrel, waving his sword in the air, and loudly proclaimed, “Two days from now the Elves will be searching an area of the bay one day north of here. Tomorrow, we will rise and depart, getting there long before them and drilling holes in the ice. We will cover the holes over with snow, and the nightime flurries will also help hide any indication of our presence. Then we sit back, waiting for the fools to arrive and fall through. After a few have taken a bath in the freezing current, we attack. Do not stop until the snow is soaked with the blood of them all. Then we may return to looking for the Stones uninterrupted and even line our pockets a bit with any gold or magical implements they have brought along in their packs and pockets.”

Cheers and howls of jubilation rang through the night air. The men chanted Marreth’s name as praises to the dear Captain echoed through the crowd. Marreth put up a hand for silence and then continued, “We leave at dawn tomorrow. Dress for cold weather, bring picks and axes plus plenty of weapons. We shall teach those Elves respect for the fine crew of Captain Marreth!”

[Child of the 7th Age]

"A seal and bear's fat, you say...." Luindal looked over at his friend and smiled. "Phew! I'll not be making many new friends that way, but I just might be persauded. I would relish the chance to get in the water and actually do something. Sometimes, I think Cirdan made a mistake naming me 'captain'." Luindal said the words in seeming jest, but the serious expression on his face belied his tone.

He paused a moment and then went on, "All this thinking and puzzling things out makes me yearn for my old life, where I actually got to do something instead of interminable planning and straining for answers to impossible questions! Rôg, my friend, I would welcome the chance to take on the waters of the bay. And I must admit I'll look forward to seeing the startled faces of some of the crew when they find out what we have planned. For now, though, let us keep these thoughts to ourselves. For the next two days, we will rest and then set out north. Possibly our quest will end right there...."

Luindal shook his head and yawned, adding, "Now I am off to bed..."

"But I thought you folk never got tired or slept?"

"Whoever told you that was exagerating a bit. I have had a long day and will welcome a chance to rest." With a nod to his friend, Luindal departed and traced his way back down the hall. The corridor was but dimly lit. As he turned the corner, he thought he heard a sound coming from the direction of his room. But, by the time he got there, everything was quiet. Pushing the door open, he lay on the bed and soon fell asleep.

[Regin Hardhammer]

"Captain Marreth, Captain Marreth, you told me to wake you now sir," a young crewmember said as he tapped the captain on the shoulder.

"Thank you mate," said Marreth, still half sleeping. "Now go get ready to leave. We have a day's jouneying ahead of us. Opening his eyes, Marreth sensed a dim light washing over his head. The dawn sun had not yet peaked its head over the horizon. Marreth rose and began loading his camping pack with coats, blankets, food, and any other materials he might need for the short journey. Although he was quite tired, Marreth packed with zeal, because he was eager to have another opportunity to eliminate the intruders. After a few minutes, the Captain finished packing and, after a small breakfast of bread and salted pork, walked onto the deck.

The day was clear and cold, but not so frigid as some of the recent ones had been. In a booming proclamation, Marreth declared that the time had come to depart from the ship. After the plank was lowered and all the crew got off, the trek to the north began. The trip proved to be unexpectedly tame, with only occasional slips on patches of snow covered ice. There were no encounters with the enemy, and the most vicious animal that anyone spotted was a lone snow rabbit and a distant herd of caribou. The men traded quips with each other, boasting of the rich rewards they would reap back home in Umbar, if only they could find the lost treasure Stones.

The Corsairs had reached the spot by early evening. It was very desolate, and Marreth never would have thought to look in this remote region if the strange Lossoth had not told him about the Elves' plans to search it.

"This is the place," said Marreth, glancing down at the map that the stranger had drawn for him. "Make camp here and we'll begin drilling the holes in the morning. It's to dark to begin now." With a grin he observed, "Some of you dandies might fall in, freeze, and then sink to the bottom like an anchor. We want to reserve such a special welcome for our Elvish friends. "

Marreth went out by himself and took a look at the snowy bluffs along the shore and the wide expanse of ice that spread out for a long ways into the water. He observed that, underneath the sheets of ice, the water was swift and deep. Anyone who went through would have a hard time surviving, he noted with satisfaction.

Then he swang back to the campsire and began building his own hut by digging a hole in the ground and mounding snow bricks on the sides and across part of the top. He did just as the stranger had suggested. Each of the men followed his lead. After he finished constructing the shelter, he spread a blanket across the bottom and laid down to sleep. This infernal land was so much colder than his home in Umbar. And the snowpit was not nearly as snug as his bed on the ship, but Marreth paid little heed to the cold and the snow that was coming down again for he had his vengence to warm him.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Luindal awoke with a start. Outside, it was still dark. He peered out the ship's porthole and glimpsed the outline of the Bay: the sun was just rising and the waters appeared placid. Still, there was a feeling of uncertainty in the pit of his stomach. He hastily tossed on his clothes and pushed back the door to walk into the corridor, continuing down the hall and climbing up the ladder to the main deck.

A brisk walk around the deck gave no hint of anything unusual. Most of the crew of the Spirit were asleep, worn out from their exertions the day before, or just rousing from their beds. The crew assigned to the kitchen had already begun their labors, which he could tell from the enticing aroma of breakfast that wafted over to the spot where he was standing. Yet, despite the apparent calm and usual routine, Luindal felt uneasy. He scanned the Bay, but, here too, all appeared quiet. One or two Lossoth fishing vessels, the last ones sailing before the winter, were bringing home a final catch.

Luindal plucked the spyglass from his vest pocket and adjusted the tube, focusing the lens on the Corsair ship. The ship looked quiet enough, with only one or two pirates visible on deck. He swung the instrument around and did a general sweep of the beach. This time he stopped, refocused his lens, and looked a second time as his jaw dropped open. The entire entourage of Lossoth and Corsairs appeared to be hiking north along the Bay, heavily laden with tools and weapons and bound for some unknown destination.

Surely, this is coincidence. I haven't even told my own men where we are going yet. They must be trekking somewhere on their own to search for the Stones, or perhaps going off on a hunting expedition to replenish supplies. But an uncomfortable sensation persisted in his stomach. In frustration, he pushed his left hand deep into his pocket and, by chance, felt the rough texture of the button and fabric that Rôg had said came from the south. He hadn't had time to think about it before, but it seemed unlikely the cave would house such a thing. When he had found the cloth, it had been dry. That meant the cloth would have had to get there quite recently, since otherwise it would have been soaked from the previous incoming tide.

Luindal spoke to one of the Elves on deck: "Please go below to rouse my trusted officers, as well as those Lossoth who have proven to be staunch friends. Ask them to report immediately to my cabin."

Privately he thought that they could ill afford to wait the full two days to depart. Tired or not, the Elves and Lossoth would make their preparations today and leave the next morning. Luindal was determined that they take extra precautions and travel fully armed. He was probably being overcautious, and all these extra preparations were not needed. But who knew? It was better to be prepared.

With this in mind, he beckoned another Elf to remain behind for a moment, leaning over and whispering something in his ear. The young Elf's eyes widened as he listened to the captain's words. "Twenty lengths of rope each thirty feet long? But, sir, we don't have that much in our supplies."

"I thought so," Luindal rejoined. "Go to the Elders and have them gather the ropes for us, and see if you can borrow one of those reindeer they have to pull a sledge. We will need to stack the supplies somewhere. And we may need that reindeer for other things as well." There was a grim edge in Luindal's voice.

"And what shall I say if they ask why I need these things?"

Luindal grinned back at the Elf, "Just tell them you have a captain who is slightly jittery and a bit daft, but you have no idea why he wants these things."

The young Elf nodded his head and beamed back, "That won't be hard, sir, seeing as I really have no idea what you'd do with this much rope and a reindeer."

"Go now, quickly, and do the errand quickly."

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

An hour later, the most trustworthy of the band had gathered together in Luindal's cabin. The Captain had finished explaining about the shoreline to the north where they would search for the Stones and how all should pack their bags today and prepare to leave in the morning.

After he had finished, he added, "We need to be very careful in the north. We have no ideas what these cursed Corsairs might do. Make sure to go fully armed. And I have another question."

He stopped for a moment, not quite sure how to phrase his words. In the end, he just said the thing straight out: "By any chance has anyone seen or heard anything suspicious or unusual over the last few days, something that caused you to take a look and wonder what was happening.... something you can't otherwise explain. If so, come speak with me today in the cabin....."

[Imladris]

Jarlyn's face was taught and white as he scrabbled at the ice with his hammer. His stomach was angry with something and his head was warm with fever. He had not been able to eat his breakfast for it had stubbornly refused to stay put in his stomach. Sweat pricked his forehead, and streamed down his back, even though the air was chill.

Swallowing, he tossed a chunk of ice feebly, and watched it skitter across the ice. A leathered hand dropped on his shoulder. Staring, Jarlyne glanced up and saw --

Jynne. That man who slipped with the shadows, became one with them, the man who had suggested the silly idea of blocking the elvish cave. All that work, for naught. Besides, it was bad form. Form in its very baddest, leaving such enemies to rot and die like that. At least give the vile things a fighting chance...He snorted silently to himself. "Swift and silent as a shadow, aren't you, Jynne?" he asked, tightly.

Jynne's face broke out in a wan smile, revealing yellowed teeth. Jarlyn shuddered. "It pays to be able to walk quietly, Jarlyn," he said softly.

Jarlyn glared back at him. "Walking quietly pays when only among enemies," he countered, trying to chuckle and failing miserably.

The barest grunt of a laugh escaped Jynne. "You feeling all right?" he asked. "You are in a muck of a sweat."

"Yes...I'm fine, thank you. Now, if you don't mind, we're supposed to be drilling holes so that the elves can take a bit of a tumble. Or is the sun too bright for you?"

He smirked as Jynne gave him a dirty look and skulked off to begin to drill another hole.

[Rinfanawen]

Diera crept slowly to the location she has selected to dig at. The snow covering the ice was so deep. Practically half of her tall, brown boots disappeared beneath the white blanket with every stride she took. Despite the fact that the wind was scarce, there was a deathly chill in the air. Standing in over a foot of snow did not help either. She was already beginning to experience why she especially did not like the cold. Nevertheless, she continued. Soon she approached her designated location. She threw her pickax on the ground while she rolled up the long sleeves of her blue shirt and brown, leather overcoat. Getting them wet with snow would not help come nightfall.

She bent down to grab her ax, her hands being covered by thick, animal-hide gloves. Diera struck the hidden ice firmly. Not even a crack was made...a small chip, maybe, have been broken off the top of the ice, but no breakthrough. She struck again with more force, but again with no luck. Obviously this will be harder than I imagined, she thought as she struck the ice again. I must hurry if ever I am to break through this glass. It very much was like glass, as well. It was a hard, cold glass that had been blurred and fogged by the frost. This would be a difficult task.

Diera began to chop away at the ice quickly, but with every swing she took, more and more snow and ice would fly up in her face. Eventually her arms, face, and legs were covered in snow that melted through her clothing. Even her hat now dripped onto her face. She stopped suddenly to notice a faint laugh in the distance. Turning, she saw Doyal, standing not too far away, mocking her condition. Diera lowered her eyelids in anger. Although he was only laughing in fun, not meaning to be cruel, Diera shot back a fierce frown. Doyal stopped laughing immediately and began digging his own hole once again.

“So much for staying dry,” Diera said to herself as she wiped the snow off her face. She rolled her sleeves down again, seeing they were wet already anyway, and continued hacking at the ice at a much slower pace.

[piosenniel]

Rôg sat in on a chair near the back of the room, massaging his left arm as he listened to Luindal talk. Search the shoreline? Rôg sighed with weariness at the thought of making that exertion. And sooner than expected, he thought, as the Captain spoke with some sense of urgency about preparing to leave in the morning. His eyes strayed about the room for any sign of Freyn. He would need another poultice applied to his arm before the company left on the search and perhaps a small quantity of that dried root to chew on . . . the one that eased the pain.

Luindal, he though, had finished speaking, Rôg stood up from his chair and made for the door. The captain’s final remarks though, made him stop and turn a frowning face toward him. What was all this about something unusual or suspicious . . . it was so vague a description, and yet the Captained seemed so eager for news of it . . .

Those gathered in the room moved uncomfortably in their seats - their heads craning this way and that to see who might have some understanding of what the Captain had said. There were many who shrugged their shoulders, and knowing they had naught to add stood to make their exit. There was one, though, one of the Lossoth, he thought, on the far side of the room who seemed to be nodding yes as Luindal made his request. He could not see who it was as he was swept out the door and down the hall by a group of Elves speaking eagerly of tomorrow’s undertaking.

[Arry]

‘Now what do you suppose the Captain means by that request?’ Andtuariel had voiced the question the three male Elves had been mulling over themselves. Elwë shrugged his shoulders as she spoke. Most of his time had been spent in Andtuariel’s cabin, seeing to her comfort. Between the cool cloths for her ankle and the book he had taken up to read to her, he had not been out and about much – save to bring food to share with her or when he retired to his own cabin to rest at night. He turned to the two brothers, inviting them to share what they knew.

Annû was as perplexed as the two of them. He’d seen nothing strange on the ship, if that’s what the Captain meant. ‘You know, though,’ he said, tapping his brother on the arm. ‘You never did get to speak to the Captain, did you, about our suspicions of that rockslide that hemmed us in the cavern.’ Carandû shook his head. ‘He wasn’t there when I went to see him. And we haven’t had time today.’

‘What’s this about the rockslide and “suspicions”,’ interrupted Elwë. Annû filled him in on their thoughts about how the rockslide just didn’t seem as if it happened ‘naturally’. Why would the rocks fall down so conveniently in front of the cave entrance? No one in the cave had felt any tremors occurring that would have shaken the rocks loose.

‘The Captain’s probably already thought along these lines himself,’ added Carandû. ‘But we wanted to share our suspicions about it anyway.’

‘Well, then,’ said Andtuariel, motioning for Elwë to take her arm and help her up. ‘Perhaps this is your opportunity to tell him now.’ Annû offered his arm on her other side, assisting her, along with Elwë, to the door. ‘You’re probably right,’ said Carandû, as she hobbled along. He held open the door as they ushered her through, then followed along behind the other three. ‘We’ll just see you to your cabin,’ he continued. ‘Then, Annû and I can pay a visit to the Captain’s quarters.’

[Taralphiel]

Freyn listened to all the Captain had to say, and slowly mulled it around in his head. The nights sleep had brought him little to ease his weariness, and his thoughts quickly became muddled. But, he could think of nothing to add in the way of a judgement, so silent he sat.

After all was said, he slowly made his way up on deck and peered about. The strng breeze seemed to clear his senses somewhat, and he smiled as he saw the other ships lightly bobbing about the waters.

'I think the Captain knows what is best....and I know little to naught of these Stones. He has the best judgement...' he said to himself.

Shaking out of his train of thought, he fumbled about in his pocket, making his way to one of his patients.

'Best to be useful...' he thought.

[Lalwendë]

The morning sun shone through the snow shelter, illuminating the interior with an eerie blue light. Tarn rolled out from his thick fur sleeping roll and began to pull on the few clothes which he had removed last night. He wore all his outer clothes, but he had removed his boots as they had been known to freeze to sweating feet in the extreme cold of the night that could descend when camping out. Having suffered frostbite once, he was careful to avoid it again. He sat up, pulled his boots on and strapped fur leggings over his breeches. After pulling on his overcoat, he added a huge fur cloak over the top. These garments were made form the pelt of one of the great white bears and made naturally warm and camouflaging protection for a man out in the ice and snow.

Peering out of the shelter he saw that Thynne had begun a fire, contained within in a thick bucket, and had prepared breakfast. Both Tarn and Thynne were in their element out here; Tarn was born and brought up on the ice, and Thynne had been sent out to join hunts from an early age. They both followed the usual routines. But this was not routine, and Tarn’s eyes followed the Corsairs as they slipped and stumbled on the ice, eager to start their work. Some used pickaxes and hammers to try and break through. This would work, but Tarn knew an easier way. He sat and watched while he ate, and he noted that the lad, too, was watching them with curious amusement.

“Why do they work so hard?” said Thynne, “When there is an easier way?”

“Hmm. What do you say, Thynne? Shall I show them?” answered Tarn, looking at the lad with a wry smile.

“What would be in for us…I mean, for you?”

Tarn laughed and almost slapped the lad on the back, then thought better of it. “You’ve learned something from the trek yesterday I see.” Tarn had taken a little time during the trek to talk to Thynne and tell him some tales of his own adventures. They had had an effect and the lad now seemed eager to help. Tarn could see that Thynne was much like he had been when he was young, and he thought that by taming that rebellious streak he would end up with a very useful assistant. Thynne was beginning to feel proud that he was assistant to the man with the frightening reputation and tall tales.

Tarn strapped a pair of overshoes with spiked soles to his boots and taking hold of a long leather bag, he headed off to where the Corsairs were struggling to make holes. Thynne put a lid onto the bucket containing the fire and followed. Once out on the ice, Tarn took out his harpoon from the leather bag and began to poke around for a good place to begin. He stopped and motioned Thynne to put the bucket down. Out of the bag he took a long spike which had a spiral ground into it, a drill. He removed the blade from the end of his harpoon and fixed the drill onto it, concentrating carefully. He knew that some of the Corsairs were watching him and muttering about “that idle Lossoth”, but he knew they would think differently once he had got going.

Thynne stirred up the fire in the bucket, which had now died down to hot embers due to the lid restricting the air. When Tarn was ready he plunged the end of the drill into the bucket and held it for a minute before placing it firmly onto the ice and pushing down carefully but firmly. As the drill took hold, Thynne held it steady and Tarn moved it rapidly down, held it and then pulled it out quickly before it froze, reheating it and repeating the process several times. A drill-hole soon appeared in the ice and Tarn was able to leave the lad to knock it wider into a man-sized hole. The ice gave way easily, but not so much that it made fractures which would pose a danger to anyone working nearby.

Some of the Corsairs watched and Tarn came over to the group and started to drill similar holes for them. They had been using a drill, but had been unable to get it far into the ice. When they asked about Tarn’s method, he explained it and told them “It is how we hunt for fish under the ice”. He stood back and watched other groups work as he waited for the drill to reheat. He smiled when he saw the female officer again, this time hacking at the ice in frustration. He had thought of offering to help her, but seeing the anger in her face, he thought she was probably best left alone. One of the men offered him a drink from a flask and told him a joke and he turned back to the task. It was a good plan, but Tarn could see they would need a lot more holes for it to work.

[Niluial]

Sun rays entered the cabin early in the morning. Elwë stretched out his arms and yawned, quickly covering his eyes as they were not used to the light.

“Are you awake?” Andtuariel whispered from across the room.

“Yes. Good morning” he smiled sweetly at her. It had been odd lately after their kiss and yet that had said nothing about it, though one could see they wanted to talk about it.

“Breakfast is being served in ten minutes! I can’t wait for today.”

“I know…” Elwë shot out of bed, “You aren’t coming with!”

“My leg is much better, I will come with.”

Elwë eyed Andtuariel suspiciously. It was rather typical of her to prove that she was strong and by now Elwë knew not to argue and just let her do as she wished.

Everyone was jittery about the day ahead. Elwë had an odd feeling inside, a gut feeling as if something was wrong, something was going to happen. He brushed the feelings away probably just anxiety or nervousness kicking in.

[Arry]

Once they had departed from Elwë and Andtuariel, Carandû motioned for his brother to follow him down the passageway to the Captain’s quarters. He stopped just outside the door, as he had done the previous night. Once again the door was slightly ajar, and a lamp burned within. Carandû tsk’d, thinking the Captain had perhaps again left his cabin and left the lamp burning. But there was a noise inside, as of someone walking in the room, and the sounds of papers shuffling and a drawer being closed.

Annû squeezed past his brother, giving him a questioning look. ‘You were going to knock, weren’t you?’ he asked, raising his hand and tapping soundly on the door. ‘Captain? You in there?’

The door creaked open at the pressure on it from the knocking and Luindal’s voice could be distinctly heard as he bade them come in. ‘Just putting a few things away in my desk,’ he said, taking out a key and locking the drawer he’d just shut. ‘Be with you in just a moment.’ Several flat pieces of parchment were unceremoniously scraped from the table top and into the shallow drawer. And again the Captain locked them away. ‘Now what can I do for you two?’ he asked, one brow raised as he looked from one to the other of the brothers.

‘It’s about the caves,’ began Annu. ‘Carandu and I talked it over last night.’ He nodded at his brother. ‘We thought you probably already had thought about it,’ continued Carandû, picking up on his brother’s words. ‘But we wanted to give you our thoughts on it, too . . .’

Both brothers talked at length about their suspicions. Why had the rocks piled so neatly and conveniently in front of the cavern’s entrance? Why had no one in the cave felt any tremors if that is what caused the rocks to slide? And from his quick glances at the hillside above the cave as they’d left to head back to the ship, it had seemed to Carandû that a number of the rocks were pried out of the ground by some fair sized force, as there seemed to be some indents in the ground where they had lain.

‘And what about those blurry figures I heard Rôg tell you he saw hastening away from the hillside?’ finished Annû. ‘Seems to us,’ he continued, looking to his brother for confirmation, ‘that there were others there who meant us harm.’

‘My brother is far too kind in his words,’ said Carandû, stepping forward. ‘What we mean to say is that it is the southrons who compromised our exploring of the cavern. And by doing so, they killed our two companions.’ Annû nodded in agreement.

‘We mean to be fully prepared on our next outing, Captain,’ Annû said quietly . . .

[Lalwendë]

Thynne worked hard hacking at the boreholes that Tarn had made. It was easy enough work for a lad of his age, indeed, he had done this task many times before, but he was making sure that he was seen to be putting an effort into his work. He thought again how lucky he had been when he had returned from his disappearing act. His father had boxed his ears, but Tarn had done nothing but act coldly towards him, and this was how the man normally acted even if he was pleased. And yesterday, as they walked up to the ice sheet, he had even told him some stories, about great whale hunts and cold journeys in boats, about fights and bets he had won, and about the treasures he pulled from the seas. His father never told him tales, he was always too drunk. He had been impressed and wished he could have adventures such as those he heard about.

He had been given some new clothes, too. They were old, and had been worn by someone else, but like most things Tarn owned, they seemed to be of good quality. His new fur breeches were thick, and best of all, they were made of pelts from the white bears. He couldn’t wait for the other lads to see him wearing them.

The holes in the ice widened easily, and as he completed each one, Thynne felt compelled to peer in to look for fish. It was habit. This was how fish was caught in the depths of winter, particularly in the northern reaches of the bay, and Thynne had joined many hunts, although none had been with his father. His belly rumbled; he hadn’t eaten for a few hours, and wondered if he could get away with dropping a line and fish hook into one of the holes to catch himself some dinner.

Checking his pockets, he found some twine, but he had nothing which would serve as a hook. He looked towards Tarn, who was back with some of the Corsairs, listening to their chatter. He wondered if Tarn would have a hook, but then realised that he’d best not go and ask him. He might be pushing his luck. “No“, he thought, “I’d best leave things be.” Yet he still looked into the hole hopefully, watching the dark waters swirling beneath. He thought he could see a fish, and crouched down, in case it came in reach of his hand, but it turned out to be a piece of wood, strangely carved, and before he had a chance to catch it, the water swept it away. “It wasn’t edible anyway” he thought, standing up and hoping that there would soon be a break for something to eat.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth pushed a heap of snow over the hole he had just dug with his ice pick and then evened it out to cleverly conceal all evidence of his meddling. The Corsairs and their Lossoth allies had riddled the snow-covered ground with a number of such holes. By tomorrow, a thin icy covering would freeze over the top of them. When the Elves came, some of their party would walk right over them and then with a crack fall through. The current underneath would drag them under the ice, where they would drown. The rest, Marreth planned to ambush during the confusion and send them to an early grave: no more meddlesome Elves putting their perfect long noses where they didn’t belong.

Their labor complete, Marreth addressed his crew, “Good job mates. Now we rest until tomorrow when the Elves arrive. At dawn, we conceal ourselves in the snow and wait for the enemy. If we have done our job with these holes, many of the Elves will fall through. During the commotion, we spring out and attack them while their guard is down. We shall not stop until they are all dead. Now get some rest.”

Marreth noticed that Jarlyn did not seem to look well. His face was pallid and he was shivering slightly. Marreth approached his friend and said calmly, “You don't seem well. Get some sleep. I don't want you to get any worse. I can’t afford to lose one of my most trusted officers. Here," he said gruffly, "I've an extra blanket you can take." He pushed it towards Jarlyn and then barked out an order in Jynne's direction. "Give Jarlyn a hand. Start a fire and get some broth heated to take the chill from his bones.""

With those stern words, Marreth retired to the ice hut he had made the day before. They had been careful to chose a hidden location back from the Bay where the Elves would be less likely to find them. Settling in for the night, Marreth mused that it was only a matter of time before they were rid of those pesky intruders for good. Just before he fell alseep, one of the Corsair sentries brought him news that their visitors had made it north and settled in less than a quarter mile south of their own encampment. Good, thought Marreth, they're here early so we have less time to wake. We'll get up early and be ready for them......

[Child of the 7th Age]

Luindal's eyes hastily strayed to the locked drawer where a number of things had been tucked away for safekeeping, including the mysterious button and fabric. He cleared his throat, nodding his head in agreement at what the brothers were saying. "I know little of landslides, but what you say makes sense. It is hard to believe those rocks came tumbling down so conveniently as the tide was pouring in."

"But that does not alter our plans for tomorrow. Our duty is to find the Stones. We will just need to be more vigilent as we carry out our task. As to our preparations for this journey, I have given that some thought. When we get to the northern shore, we'll be taking extra precautions, which I'll explain further at that point. And, as I said before, everyone is to come fully armed. In any case, I am glad that you're here, since you are the only ones who've come forward. If you see or hear anything suspicious on the ship or the trek north, just let me know."

"Suspicious?" queried Anû. "What would you be thinking of?"

Luindal shook his head and sighed, wondering how much more he should say. When he spoke, he phrased his words carefully, "Perhaps, someone on the ship who is someplace you wouldn't expect them, or doing something strange, maybe wandering off from the camp at night, or toting a map or book under their vest jacket. Just something that strikes you as out of character or odd."

"But enough of that. Finish your packing tonight and come down early tomorrow. We'll be starting out while it is still dark."

The brothers nodded and disappeared out the door. Luindal knew that the blankets and ropes had already been secured from the Elders and were being loaded onto the sledge in preparation for the morning's departure. He had managed to obtain an extra reindeer or two to pull a second sledge for those who might still need to rest for part of the trek. Several of the Elves most severely injured were being left back on the ship. He had tried to persuade others to stay behind as well, but they would hear nothing of it. Alahseey had assured him that the trek north would be easy, and that the sledge would give those with minor injuries another day for their wounds to heal. He hoped she was right.

About to settle in for the night, he heard a crisp knock at his door and beckoned whoever was there to come inside. Hilde appeared, carrying a load of blankets and a thick fur parka that she set down on the table along with a travelling pack. She backed away from Luindal and made an awkward curtsey, while fumbling nervously with the edge of her apron, "Master Luindal, I am but a humble Lossoth servant woman. Not the likes of you and the other Elves. But there was something I saw. Something I thought was strange, and I can't explain it. I thought if I told you that you might understand and could set my mind at ease. Last night, when you were off touring the ship and talking to Rôg, I saw that Elf. I don't recall his name, but he was the same one who was just here talking with you."

"Annû perhaps? Or Carandû?"

"That was it," she nodded vigorously. "The last one you mentioned. He was in here pouring over one of your maps. He seemed to be memorising it. But undoubtedly, you gave him a job to do that?"

Luindal looked at Hilde and smiled weakly, "Undoubtedly.....," he nodded, bidding her a hasty goodnight, not wishing to talk about this any longer. Yet, as he fell asleep, he couldn't help but wonder what Carandû had been doing in his room.

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

Just as the first rays of the sun stretched across the Bay, they had said their goodbyes to their Elven comrade who had lost his life in the caves. "He was a decent Elf with a good heart who volunteered to come North," Luindal confided to Rôg. "He'll probably spend only a short time in Mandos before going on to Valinor. Still, for those of us in Middle-earth, it is a grievious loss. For our numbers are small and grow seemingly fewer every year."

With that Luindal raised his hand and signalled the procession to begin its trek to the North. Alahseey and Hilde jointly took the lead, since they knew the land better than any of the other Lossoth. At the end of the line were two reindeer pulling sledges, one burdened with supplies, and the other carrying those who preferred to ride at least part of the way.

In one important respect, Alahseey was correct. The journey north was relatively easy. They met only one or two Lossoth hunters and a caribou herder and his family who were all heading south. By late afternoon, they had nearly reached the northern shores where they were to camp tonight and begin searching for the Stones in the morning.

[Arry]

The two brothers were assigned to the end of the caravan. More precisely, they were to see to the reindeer which pulled the sledge for bearing passengers. For the most part of the journey north, their only passenger had been Rôg. All bundled up in his thickly fur-lined leather breeches and overtunic, the skin changer seemed to be enjoying himself - commenting as they went along on what he knew about the ice formations and the wildlife they hid.

‘I see you’ve brought your blades and bows,’ Rog noted, about a quarter of the way into the trek. ‘Planning on hunting something?’

‘Protecting’s more like it,’ chimed in Carandû, his breath sending out great plumes of frosty air as he strode along. ‘You keep your eyes open, too. Let us know if you notice anything.’ Rôg looked at Carandû whose face seemed quite serious, then turned his gaze to Annû. ‘What’s that about,’ he mouthed at the younger brother.

Annû glanced down at the man. ‘We’ve a theory about the rockslide at the cavern,’ he began, pitching his voice a little lower – though what, other than the reindeer, could hear him was dubious. In quick phrases, he told Rôg about their suspicions and wondered if he’d remembered anything more about those two vague figures he seen. The man’s answer was ‘no’, though he assured them he’d gone over his memories time and time again.

Most of the day was spent in pleasant conversation. At lunch time a brief rest was called – time for food and drink and a chance to sit down for a while. But soon, the Captain had them on their feet again. The sun had moved past its zenith and he wanted to reach the camping grounds the two Lossoth had told him about before it grew dark.

Five more hours brought them to their destination on the northern shores. As Carandû and his brother drew up with the two reindeer and their sledges they could see the two Lossoth women – Hilde and Alahseey, pointing out to those in front the best places to camp. Annû shivered at the expanse of ice and snow that was meant to serve as the place to pitch their tents. ‘Ah,’ he said, watching his brother take the thick bearskins from the sledge where Rôg had been sitting. ‘I doubt even those will not protect our bones from the hard mattress the Captain has chosen for us.’ Carandû nodded as he began to put up the hide tent, then piled the bearskins within.

‘Why don’t you two see about getting us a fire going . . . and find something for us to eat,’ he went on, his fist clasped round a large hammer from the tent chest, ‘I’ll just get these pounded in, then I’ll see to the reindeer. The animals eyed him at this comment, as if they understood his intent, and their hooves struck the ground once or twice in anticipation of a handful of hay and dried grasses that were packed a the back of the sledge.

Annû helped Rôg to his feet, and the two of them went off to rifle through the supplies for food and then were off on a small venture to find water. ‘The sun is hastening toward the horizon,’ said the Elf. ‘Let’s not loiter too long in any one place. I want to be back at our own campfire before darkness falls.’

[piosenniel]

‘Sorry to be such a bother!’ It was not only Rôg’s arm that was stiff today, but all his joints seemed to ache from the strain of having pushed them through the crack in the rock and from the unrelenting cold. He leaned on Annû’s arm as they walked on the icy ground, his steps careful so as not to fall. The little fire they had built was from the small amount of kindling wood they’d brought from the ship and from the supply of dried reindeer droppings the Lossoth had so thoughtfully brought along.

For food, they looted through the supplies of dried strips of meat the Lossoth had provided along with a few handsful of dried grains - barley, mostly – and some dried peas that they could cook into a stew. It was plain fare, to be sure – but it would keep them warm through the frigid Bay night. Now all they had to do was find fresh water for tea and for the cooking pot.

It was Galhardir, who had come along with them, that showed them where water could be gotten. Little Rodhal had stayed behind with Carandû. He was to be the guardian of the fire, Annû had told him, laughing. ‘Guard it from the wind; keep it fed with fuel!’ the Elf had instructed him with a grin. ‘We’ll hurry back with water for hot tea and thick stew.’ As they left the camp, the boy was squatted down by the fire, a serious look on his face as he fed the little tongues of flame.

Rôg’s thought was just to scoop up a bit of fresh snow and heat it up to be their water. But Galhardir recommended they walk a little ways away, to where a great glacier edged its way to the waters of the bay. ‘We’ll chip some of the clear ice from it and bring it back for cooking. It’s pure and sweet tasting, no hint of saltiness from the bay.

Galhardir took the lead and the three headed in the direction he pointed out . . .

[Orofaniel]

"Here," Galhardir said, as he led the way through some icy stones, and paths. "It's a bit slippery, so you may want to be careful," he then continued.

Annû and Rög noticed it soon enough, and tried to stay on their feet. It was easier for Galhardir, as he was well aware of the terrain. He had been there a hundred times before. He knew where the best places to find nice and fresh water were hidden. It wasn't always as easy as one would think, because often the water would be strongly affected by the ocean and the salt.

"It's not too far from here," Galhardir then said turning to Rôg who was right behind him. "Where is Annû?" He then asked, as he noticed that the elf had disappeared. "He is right behind us," Rôg told him. "Oh," Galhardir replied, as he saw the elf appear just behind one of the big icy rocks. "We wouldn’t want to loose you, would we?" Galhardir said teasingly, continuing forwards.

A few minutes past, and more walking followed. Finally, they reached the spot that Galhardir had recommended earlier. It was a nice, hidden field between some hilly areas filled with clean, pure ice. It was a magnificent view for those who hadn’t seen anything like it before. "Is this it?" Rôg asked, seeming a bit insecure about the place. "Indeed," Galhardir said proudly. "This ice is as pure and clean as it can get....We'll just chop something off over there, and we're ready to go," Galhardir said, leading the way once again.

Rôg and Annû followed willingly, wherever Galhardir led. They walked on a small icy path, but this wasn't as slippery as it had been before. Some were more grateful for that than others.

"Are you ready?" Galhardir said stopping for a moment. "Aye," Rôg replied.

Together the tree of them managed to dig some of the top ice, which was looser than the rest, and bring it back to the fireplace where Carandu and Rodhal were waiting eagerly for their return.

[Niluial]

Elwë gazed at the torn gray clouds that streaked across the cold sky, he felt uneasy, he wasn’t sure why but he didn’t like the feeling at all. Andtuariel moved closer to the fire rubbing her soft hands together in hope to feel warmer. Elwë put his two arms around Andtuariel’s waist and hugged her tightly. She turned around quickly when he hugged her; things were still awkward since their kiss.

“What is happening with dinner?” Andtuariel inquired.

“Er, I think Annû and Rôg are sorting that out.”

“No, they ventured off somewhere, I have no idea where.”

“Oh” Elwë said suspiciously.

“Then I’ll prepare the food, we need an early night.” Andtuariel said, then she headed off to the food supplies and started to prepare it.

The stars shone brightly across the blackened sky. It was dark but the blazing fire of reds and oranges lit the campsite up. Elwë hadn’t seen Annû or Rôg and was worried that something may have happened, he cleared the thought from his head and was sure they just got sidetracked or were taking their time back, as it had just gone dark. He saw Andtuariel sitting on a log by the fire, she was in deep thought, one could see by her facial expression, he loved to catch her like that.

Elwë sat on a rock beside Andtuariel who was gazing at the dancing fire.

“It’s magical.” She said softly to him.

Elwë chuckled, “we love avoiding serious topics with small talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about that is serious.”

“I’m sorry about the other night, I may have been out of place.”

“No not at all” she said as she got up and walked towards the other lossoth females.

Elwë returned to his deep thoughts from earlier on and he felt uneasy once again. His eyelids slowly closed and soon his deep thoughts disappeared.

[Rinfanawen]

Diera stomped her way through the mushy, wet snow towards where they had made camp. Her feet were soaked. Her hands had shriveled long before, even though she had gloves on, and the sleeves of her overcoat and shirt were soaked from her wrists to above her elbows. Her hat had managed to dry some from before, but it froze under the icy conditions of the air. Nevertheless, she managed to easily find camp.

She found her shelter was quite comforting, though sadly it did not keep out the frigid cold. Any wind, however, was blocked quite nicely from getting inside. She sat atop a blanket on the icy, cold ground while she wrapped another, thicker blanket tightly around herself. The snow-stained clothes she wore pressed firmly against her skin, making her even colder. She shivered tremendously. The cold air and icy ground made her think about only one thing...how much she hated the land. She thought back on the terrible accident long ago.

Diera was young at the time. She was only around six years old then, but she remembered it well. It was the only memory she recovered after the event. She closed her eyes tightly as horrific scenes flashed through her mind. She saw her mother’s face. Her mother had been cooking for a long time. Her face was blackened with soot and ash from the fire. Diera remembered sitting at the table singing a quiet song to herself while she watched her mother. She remembered her mother’s expression as she came closer to the table and began to sing as well. Her mother was so happy. Both of them were...and her father!

She smiled as she remembered her father coming home that day. He rode in on horse. She remembered running to the door in pure ecstasy. She ran out to meet his smiling face that very moment. As she ran from the house, she remembered hearing a loud crash and a sudden warm temperature against her neck and back. She turned quickly to see that her house had caught fire. It was blazing in flames that seemed as high as mountains. Her childish fears made her halt in shock. She remembered her father running into the house to try and recover her mother from the flames, but neither of her parents ever exited the house. The last thing she remembered seeing of that location was the sight of the roof collapsing into the midst of the flames. She remembered running. She ran faster and faster until she found herself falling to the ground, fainting due to running so far. She remembered nothing else until she awoke on her uncle’s ship at the harbor two days later.

Diera was almost in tears as she broke from her memories. Why she had let herself remember that time, she did not know. So long it was that she had endured without remembering the event, and she wished she had not at this moment. She figured it was the cold. The cold made her do things unknown to her usual life. She found herself singing, and to add to that, she was singing the exact song she sang as a child. She stopped her voice suddenly. Why do I remember that? she thought. I’ve never sang that song...not since then, at least. She tried to force herself away from the thoughts, but they were too strong to let go.

Suddenly she heard the sounds of feet trampling through snow nearby. A familiar face quickly peered in at her own.

“What is it?” Diera said harshly to Doyal.

Doyal paused for a moment. “Nothing, I...were you singing?”

“No,” said Diera abruptly.

“Oh,” replied Doyal. “Alright, then.” He stood at the entrance of her shelter for a few moments longer.

“Is that all?” she asked him.

Doyal nodded his head and answered, “Um, I was told to remind everyone to keep their weapons in close range. We never know exactly when the Elves are to arrive.”

“Thank you for the warning,” said Diera as she watched Doyal walk away. She remained seated on the ice for quite some time wrapped warmly in her blanket. Her thoughts eventually broke away from her forgotten past, but the song remained in her heart for days to come.

[Imladris]

Jarlyn shot a glare at Marreth and a dirty look at Jynne. How could Marreth assign Jynne to help him? Marreth, though a good friend, could be a bit short sighted at times. It was obvious that Jarlyn didnt like that Jynne.

He shrugged off Jynne's helping hand and could have sworn that Jynne had smiled thinly. The little --

"So, do you know why the captain was blinking a lantern?" asked Jynne.

Jarlyn shot him a suspicious look. Why in Middle-Earth did he care? "Why should I know?" he retorted sharply. His head began to ache and he clenched his fist to his temple.

"Well, you are his best friend," said Jynne smoothly.

"There are two things you must realize, Jynne," said Jarlyne impatiently. "The first is that I am do not feel up to avoiding numerous questions from you. The second is that it is none of your business what our Captain does. Now for pity's sake leave me alone."

"Corsairs do not have pity -- at least they are not supposed to have pity," said Jynne silkily.

"Oh go away and insult someone else," Jarlyn snapped as he settled himself by the fire and helped himself to a bit of stewing broth.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Luindal gazed moodily at the fire and again replayed the sequence of events that had led to the death of his two companions in the watery tunnels of the cavern. All day, on the trek north, he had been unable to purge their faces from his mind or the haunting feeling that he had somehow failed them. Pushing his hand beneath his belt, he felt the swatch of fabric and button that he’d picked up in the cave. His natural inclination was to meet life in an open and honest way and assume that those around him were doing the same. Yet all the evidence he had seen over the past two days suggested something very different.

Luindal had not been shocked to learn that the Corsairs were likely responsible for the precipitous landslide. The Southrons had their personal ambitions and schemes, the details of which were unknown to him. Yet it was certain that they would bitterly oppose the Seeing Stones falling into the hands of Elves or King Elessar. He only wished he had realized ahead of time that they were likely to hatch a plot of their own that would bring danger and death to his own men. What did disturb him was the mounting evidence that there were one or more among his own party who had apparently decided to side with the enemy. This was hard to take.

This time, however, he would not be caught off guard. Some of the men were still away from camp, gathering water and provisions, but a number had already settled in for the night. His eyes scanned the campsite until they lit on a likely recruit. Gesturing Elwën to come join him, Luindal explained that he needed someone to search by the shore to see if there was indication of anyone else coming here beforehand, perhaps with evil intent. “Be careful when you go! I am probably wrong, but it’s possible we have company. Make sure you’re not seen. And if you find anything unusual, come back and tell me. Oh, yes, and one last thing, whatever you do, do not walk out on the ice itself. Stay on the snowy banks that overlook the Bay.” With that, he clapped Elwën on the shoulder and sent him out into the bleak night.

Walking over to the others who were gathered round a larger fire, he sat down and began to talk, “Tomorrow, I want us to take every precaution. I want no more deaths if we can avoid it. A few will be assigned to walk out on the ice and test it, to make sure we have no more mishaps. The rest of you will stand guard on shore, watching for intruders.”

"I've assigned Annu and Elwen to the second team, and Andtuariel if she is well enough.. You must tie sturdy ropes about your waist and anchor them to something solid onshore, perhaps a tree or large boulder. Freyn will be in charge of these lifelines along with Hilde, Alahseey, and Rôg I hope nothing goes wrong, but if it does they will pull with all their might and direct all the other Lossoth and Elves to do the same so that we lose no one else to the waters of the Bay.

"I will lead the first party onto the ice, and will need a volunteer to work with me." He glanced around the group and eyed Galhardir. “We need a Lossoth who knows the Bay. Galhardir, this is no easy job, but I can think of no one else I would rather have at my side in the first group. What say you?”

[Orofaniel]

"Me?" Galhardir asked Luindal quietly. Luindal nodded. "You know the bay better than most of us, and I think we could need that as we set out on the ice," Luindal said, waiting for Galharidr to accept. It wasn't much to think about though; Gahardir was more than willing to join this little party on to the ice. "Of course I'll join you Luindal," Galhardir then replied with a smile around his face. "Good," Luindal said, smiling as well. "We need to be very cautious, because the ice is not safe right now," Galhardir told Luindal.

"I noticed it especially as we were walking to fetch water," Galhardir then continued. "Really?" Luindal asked him, seeming quite surprised. "Yes, indeed. I saw some remarkable crevasses, but I don't know how sensitive they are. What I do know, is that they were remarkably big. One doesn’t see them too often, really; not like this," Galhardir then said, seeming a bit weary.

"I see," Luindal said thoughtful. "I reckon' it's nothing to worry about," Galhardir then said, comforting. "We just have to be cautious, and watch out steps," He then said finally. "You are correct, my friend," Luindal nodded.

"Hopefully we won't meet any such unpleasant surprises," Galhardir then said causally. He laughed, but it lacked the sensation of a real laughter.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Niluial's post

Elwё’s heart jumped as Luindal asked him to search the shore for any indications of company. “Be careful when you go! I am probably wrong, but it’s possible we have company. Make sure you are not seen. And if you see anything unusual, come back and tell me. Oh, yes, and one last thing, whatever you do, do not walk out on the ice itself. Stay on the snowy banks.” Luindal said concernedly, followed by a meaningful pat on the shoulder.

“I’ll be careful and I swear I won’t miss any evidence, if there is evidence.” And with that Elwë turned around beaming. Pride and pure ecstasy filled Elwë. Me! I was asked… me!

He started walking towards Andtuariel, ready to tell her the wonderful news. He stopped. She probably won’t want me to go. Hmm, or she’ll worry herself to death. He turned around once again, changing his direction towards a fellow elf. “If Andtuariel asks you where I am, say I have gone to fetch wood.” Elwë said softly.

“Sure!” said the elf.

Elwë entered his tent. He was no longer filled with joy but instead a mixture of feelings. He was excited, because he was chosen and yet fearful of what could happen. What if I fall in an ice hole? No, remember what Luindal said, “whatever you do, do not walk on the ice itself” just stay clear Elwë, step by step. He tried to clear his thoughts but another one jumped right into his head. What if there is company and I bump into our ‘company’?. “Get a grip of yourself!” he hissed allowed to himself.

Slightly shacking Elwë tightened the laces on his leather boots and put on a warm, soft fur coat. He sighed slightly and walked back outside in the bitter cold. Slowly he started to walk in the direction of the shore. His feet felt as heavy as a thousand bricks and they kept sinking deeper and deeper into the snow making it harder to lift them. The snow-laden wind cut into him like needles penetrating his skin.

What felt like hours he finally arrived at the shore. Whatever you do, do not walk out on the ice itself. Stay on the snowy banks echoed in his head numerous times. He looked around, shielding his eyes from the piercing snow. He just noticed how dull everything was; there was nothing but whiteness and different shades of grey.

He searched carefully, like an eagle does for its prey. He squinted; sure there was nothing when something black caught his eye. He bent down and picked it up. It was a rough, homespun sort of cloth, it was black with crystallized sea water on it, “odd but not enough evidence” he murmured. He shoved the cloth into his pocket and was just about to walk off when something in the snow glinted. He bent down and started to dig. There it was, a silver pocketknife; its handle embellished with diamond and square patterns, its curved blade was extremely sharp and it was slightly rusted yet well kept and polished. He used his sleeve to wipe the snow off it. Elwë then inspected it closely, surely it’s too ‘rich’ looking for a Lossoth, but not too ‘rich’ looking for a looting Corsair.

Elwë quickly shoved the knife in his pocket and looked around, making sure the company wasn’t near by. He turned around and walked faster than before. He was excited of what he had to show Luindal and wanted to get out of the cold.

When he got back to the camp Andtuariel ran up to him and hugged him. Elwë rolled his eyes, “who told you?”

“I thought you were lost while getting the wood! And, wait, told me about what?”

“It doesn’t matter!” he said, his eyes searching for Luindal.

“But, where is the wood?” Andtuariel said suspiciously.

“Like I said it doesn’t matter.” He said impatiently.

Luindal spotted him and gestured him to come over. “Did you find anything?” Luindal asked rapidly.

“Yes!” he dug in his pockets and pulled out the knife and black cloth and handed it to Luindal. “I found these two items.”

“This knife must belong to one of them, I have never met a native, Lossoth with a knife such as this one.” Luindal said while examining it closely.

“Me neither. Unless it belongs to one of our men but I haven’t seen anyone with a pocket knife like this.”

“I’ll have to ask, but I doubt it. This cloth, no one here has clothes made of this cloth.” Luindal said depressingly. “Thank you, you have done a great deed Elwë.”

[Child of the 7th Age]

Arry's post

Carandû was silent as they walked back toward their tent. The ebb and flow of conversation between his brother and Elwë flowed over him without penetrating his thoughts. Annû caught up to him and tapped him on the shoulder, intruding on his quandary with his words. ‘Well, what do you think, big brother. Think there might be a chance we’ll find what we’re looking for?’

‘What I think,’ said Carandû, turning to his brother, ‘what I think is that there is something strange going on here. Why am I not going on the search teams? You know what the Captain wants me to do? He wants me to take care of the reindeer. The reindeer! What sort of a make-do job is that?!’

Annû and Elwë raised their brows at learning the job Carandû had been assigned. Annû noted his brother’s eyes had taken on a certain determined glint. ‘What are you thinking of doing?’ he asked, his hand reaching out to touch his brother’s forearm.

A faint smile creased Carandû’s face, disappearing as he turned and headed back again toward the camp. ‘I’m going to mind the reindeer, of course. What else is there to do?’

What else is there to do? Annû watched his brother disappear into the tent, thinking that he most likely did not want to consider the answer to that question.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Child of the 7th Age]

The campsite was quiet; most of the Lossoth and even the Elves had settled down for the evening. Luindal sat poking at the last embers of the firepit. He looked down one more time at the knife and swatch of cloth that Elwën had found on the snowy bank in the exact location where they planned to search for the Stones. The fabric appeared to be a diferent color but the very same type that he had picked up earlier from the caves. Little doubt remained in his mind: the Corsair crew was planning something for them on the morrow. But what that was he could only guess.

They would have sturdy weapons at their side to fight off any intruders and thick ropes around their waists to lessen the possibility of an "accident" on the ice turning into a disaster. He had spoken to Alahseey earlier in the evening, and she had confirmed that the currents in this part of the Bay could be quite treacherous even close to shore. But she had again stressed that this was an area that would need to be searched, because of the strange rocks that had been discovered, which were inscribed with Elvish runes.

Moreover, this early in the year, there was the very real danger of cracks and fissures unexpectedly forming in the ice. Sometimes entire ice blocks abruptly broke off and floated out to the Sea. And who was to say that the Corsairs would not find some way to exploit these natural dangers?

Yet it was not the Corsairs who worried him most. He was certain his brave companions would stand up to them and fight. It was the unknown spy within the camp who could wreck the most mischief, by pulling tricks of a sort that no one could possibly guess ahead of time. And who was to say that there was only one mole digging about for information? Possibly there were two or three.

With a sigh, Luindal settled down in his bedroll and willed himself to relax, gazing up at the stars and thinking about his family and what they might be doing tonight in the West. He wondered if the constellations looked different from the place where they were, or if they could see the same ones that he was staring at now. Before long, his eyes grew weary and sleep overcame him.

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

With the approach of dawn, the camp again sprung to life: Luindal woke early, brushing the newly fallen snow from his clothing, and afterwards setting out his weapons and pack. As he had instructed the others to do, he wound the rope tightly around his waist and knotted it, rolling up the long end in a loop that he swung over his back. After hastily eating a few chunks of travel bread, he gestured that the group should come together for final instructions. Once they had gathered, he began to speak, "Take care this morning. Those going out onto the Bay must step lightly on the ice and try to avoid fissures and holes. Those remaining on shore must survey the land in back of us for signs of attack or ambush. Just as important, keep watching to see if any of those on the Bay have been swept off the ice into the water. If that happens, we're relying on you to tug hard at those ropes. The waters here are swift and deep, and a man can get swept away very quickly. And do not forget, if you see any sign of the Stones, give a hollar, and we'll be over to help."

With that, he handed his own rope to Freyn and one of the Elves he'd known from Lorien who was also helping. Slowly and with great caution, be began inching out onto the frozen Bay. Galhardir passed the end of his rope to Alahseey and Hilde, walking close just a pace ahead of Luindal. Soon the other team had done the same with their ropes, following just behind the Captain and Galhardir. For the moment at least, all appeared well.

[Orofaniel]

With small steps and great caution the two of them approached the ice. The cold breeze hit Galhardir in the face, but it only refreshed him. "After you," Lindal whispered. Galhardir then gave the other end of his thick rope to Alahseey and Hilde. "Be careful, both of you," Hilde said as Galhardir turned. He nodded, although he wasn't sure she noticed it.

Swiftly the two of them went further onto the ice. Galhardir was in the lead, followed closely by his companion and captain, Luindal. Watching over his shoulder now and then he made sure that Luindal was still following. He was still uncertain whether the ice was as safe as he would have thought if would be. He didn't want to take any chances, it wasn't worth it. And if something horrible would happen here on the ice, one would only stand a small chance against the cold water and rough ice. One thing he had learned about the ice and the water beneath through the years was that it was ruthless and dangerous. Luckily he had the rope around his waist, which gave him great comfort. He trusted the ones that were holding the other end back at the shore. With these thoughts, he went straight forwards, with small worries considered their situation.

Hopefully this little walk would give a somewhat positive result.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth had led his men forward to the shelter of the snowy banks even before dawn had broken. Now, he stamped his feet impatiently and gripped the hilt of his sword, eager for things to get under way. He was sick of planning and plotting, and would welcome the chance for action.

His eyes strayed to a nearby snow bluff where Jynne and Jarlyn were hiding. Jarlyn looked no better than before. Once they had demolished the Elves and returned to their ship, he would insist his friend rest a day or two to help regain his health.

Strange how things went! The sicker Jarlyn looked, the wider the self-satisfied smirk that spread over Jynnne's face. For one instant, Marreth considered that his friend's illness might not be just an accident. Then he brusquely rejected that idea. Marreth could have understood if the two men had come to blows, or even if one had plotted to slit the other's throat. But he knew little of poisons and how they worked, and could not have imagined that any of his men would use such a cowardly means to rid himself of an enemy. For all his commitment to Umbar and his ship, and to a life of looting and piracy, Marreth was not a naturally cruel man and did have a certain rudimentary sense of honor. He privately vowed to keep an eye on Jynne, and to trust him only so far. He would tell Diera to do the same.

Marreth watched as the lead team of Elves made its way out onto the ice. He cursed as he saw the rope entwined about Luindal's waist with two others standing a ways off anchoring it down. He didn't know whether to laugh or explode in anger. Still, let the Elves keep their toys! It won't matter at all. I would rather put a blade in an Elf's backany day than to let the current do my work.....

Looking down from his lofty perch, he saw a familiar face and grinned. This one had proven both faithful and useful. His mind ran back to their last meeting. Remember what we spoke of.... One snake in a den of mice can do a great deal of damage. He vowed to reward the informer as soon as they returned to the ship. He'd offered a token of gold the last time they'd met. This time, he would be more generous.

Just a bit further, thought Marreth, as he mentally urged the Elves to be quick about their business and step further out onto the ice. As soon as they hit the concealed holes, we'll be able to show what we're made of.....

[Niluial]

Andtuariel sat up pulled herself from her dream world and looked around, a dazed, slightly confused look on her face. Sometimes the dream world intertwined itself with reality and it was hard to pull them apart. She stared at the pale sky with pink and red streaks across it, looking like an unfinished masterpiece.

She turned her head and saw Elwë shivering, though his face was peaceful as he dreamed of elven lands that were far away from this iceland. Reality hit her like a ton of bricks. Today is the day we go searching for the Palantiri in the ice-cold snow.

“Elwë!” she whispered while shaking him.

“Please, it can’t be dawn already,” he said miserably.

“Well it is and we better get ready." She paused, hesitatingly. Then taking a deep breath as if she was about to go swimming in a dark ocean, she said quickly, "But we need to talk first.”

Elwë pushed himself into a sitting position and sighed deeply. "What about?”

“Everything. I am very concerned. Yesterday you went looking for wood and yet came back with none. You have been acting secretly and I know Luindal doesn’t trust some of us as we might be part of the other side. You are acting so strangely and I don't understand why," she said almost pleadingly. "I really don’t want him thinking you are on the Cor” she quickly interrupted herself, “you aren’t right?” She cast an anxious glance at him and chewed her lip. She didn't want to ask, but she had to. She had to know.

Elwë sprung to his feet, his pale face becoming a splotchy red. “I can’t believe you would even think that! Why would you think that! I…” he shouted. “I am not even going to answer the question. It’s the silliest thing I have heard! And here I thought you trusted me! I thought I trusted you! I… oh I don’t care.” With that he threw his blanket down, grabbed his fur coat, and stormed out of the tent.

“Good morning” Annû said.

“Morning!” Elwë said acting as if everything was fine.

****

The wind wasn’t as strong as it was the day before when he went spying but the snow laden wind still cut into him and the others. Elwë walked closer to Annû. They smiled kindly to each other, they had connected lately and a real bond was forming between them. “I am a bit nervous about today. Luindal looks worried and I just know something… well I feel something is going to go wrong.” Annû said, looking down at the dry yet very cold ice.

“I feel it to, I really do.” Elwë said morbidly.

The rest of the walk was in silence. Elwë didn’t want to talk, he had too much to think about. The Palantiri, the attack that was bound to happen and Andtuariel. He tried his best to not think too much, he had to focus on the ice and the lifeline. He wasn’t cold anymore, his body had just become numb and lazy, it was hard to walk feeling so. Something is watching us, something. Before he could think any further Annû stopped the group as he found something. He took out a stout blade from his pocket and bent down, chipping through the ice but instead of finding the Palantiri he found a larg grey rock. The group sighed and kept looking.

[Imladris]

Jynne cast a smirking glance towards the hidden Corsair where Jarlyn languished. He was sick, oh so sick...it was good.

He smiled thinly to himself as he watched the elves rope themselves together. They had roped themselves together, the cunning scum, but that would not effect them crashing into the icy water. Cold tended to numb the muscles, make them slow and lazy. The Corsairs could still spring upon them and slash their moorings. They would sink like an anchor.

With a soft hiss, Jynne slipped his dagger from his sheath.

[Arry]

Annû

Annû shrugged his shoulders, moving his neck from side to side, in an effort to shake off his uneasy feeling. Elwë and Andtuariel led the way out onto the ice once the Captain and his team had gone forth. Someone was watching them. He could feel the attention directed their way, a vague but persistent interest. He shook the feeling off as best he could, focusing his attention on the task before them.

Aside from his weapons, which his brother had insisted he take today, Annû was armed with a stout pole sharpened to a point on the end, a present from his brother who had spent a fair part of the night crafting it for his use. He poked it soundly into the snowy ice before taking a step. A ways ahead he could just make out Luindal and Galhardir, their rope lifeline taut as they strove to cover as much area as possible. Annû’s gaze fell on his own little group. Elwë was moving carefully forward, as was Andtuariel, but Annû could see she still favored her injured ankle.

What a sight we all must make! he thought to himself. Like some great spiders, their webs spun between them, looking for prey.

Taking a deep breath, he refocused on the area in front of him, trying to imagine, as he poked his staff into the snow filled fissure that ran to the side of the clear ice, just how he would know if he’d found one of the palantiri. He tapped his staff on the ice, listening as he walked along to the different sounds it made. At one point, it sounded particularly dull and he called a halt to his group’s movement. With a stout blade he had brought for the purpose, Annû knelt down and chipped through the ice. But it was not a palantir, only a large stray rock caught in the glacial grip.

----------

Carandû

‘They look like big bugs out there on the ice,’ said Carandû softly to himself. He watched his brother make his way slowly along the icy floe, and it grated on him that he could not be at his side. Ignoring the Captain’s orders to ‘look to the reindeer’, Carandû had left the care of the beasts to one of the Lossoth more familiar with their habits than the Elf cared to be, and had followed along at a discrete distance behind the search teams. On a little rise along one of the snowy glacial walls, he’d found a small indent where he could remain hidden and have the ice field below in view. From his vantage point he could see the two teams, their lifeline ropes extending back onto the shore, each anchored to sturdy boulders. Rôg was there by them, as were three of the Lossoth.

Carandû narrowed his eyes against the ice glare and watched his brother’s team carefully. He knelt in the snow, his thick fur over-breeches cushioning his lower legs against the cold. His bow, strung, was in his gloved hand, an arrow knocked lightly should there be need of it.

‘Take care, little brother,’ he whispered, his frosty plea spiraling up in the cold air.

[piosenniel]

Rôg walked between the two boulders that served to anchor the rope life lines. He pulled off his gloves, suffering his hands to become quite chilled as he ran his fingers over the knots. He was no expert on them, but the knots seemed solid and well tied. And there was no slippage of them as he gave a firm tug on the rope stretched out from them.

One hand on the line, he followed it out to where the search parties had gone out onto the bay’s ice, being careful not to step any further himself. To be quite honest, the ice scared the wits from him. It was as treacherous, he thought, as the shifting sands from his own home land, but more so, really, since he was totally unfamiliar with its ways. He looked out to where Luindal was inching along, afraid for his friend who probably knew the ice hardly better than he.

Rôg pulled his gloves back on and retreated to the safety of the boulders. He stood stamping about on the snowy ground, sure he could feel the numbing cold catching hold of his toes despite the thickness of his boots and the several pairs of socks he wore. He peeked around the face of the boulder to where the three Lossoth stood. Alaahseey, Hilde, and Freyn seemed to have a handle on watching the ropes and the searchers. Perhaps he could just dart back to where he’d lain his little supply pack. Those knee high foot warmers Bear had given him, made from the supple, cured skin of a white bay bear, were stuffed in one of the side pockets. He’d just fetch them quickly and be back in a trice, he reasoned, before anything happened. Not that it will! he said hastily, his fingers crossing as best they could in the thick gloves to avert any bad luck . . .

[Rinfanawen]

The cold seemed to seep through Diera’s clothes as she sat watching the Elves. They had come not but hours earlier, and the Corsairs were ready. The Corsairs were crouched, weapons in hand, behind small snow banks off to the side of the ice. Diera smiled at the foolish Elves upon the cold, glass-like floor. They were walking carefully, but they did not know what lie ahead. Soon they would fall. The ice was fragile, more in some places than in others, and would break easily when stepped upon. This is what the Corsairs had in mind.

Her hat was firmly placed over her head. It covered her ears completely, for she much hoped to escape the cold. Diera knew the kind of affects it had on her, and she did not want any of them arousing at this moment. This time on the icy ground was quite irksome. She was very much impatient. She knew where the holes had been made, and yet the Elves seemed to be walking so slow towards them! Hurry up! her mind constantly spoke. Why must they be so sluggish now? She watched one Elf grow close to a hole they had made in the ice. He stepped, for what she could see, directly upon it, but it only began to crack. The Elf quickly picked up his foot and continued in a different direction. Diera moaned greatly.

The Elves stopped for a moment...a moment that seemed to be a lifetime of shorter, irritating moments. The Elves unwound long ropes from their packs. Diera laughed to herself as she watched the Elves tie ropes around themselves, thinking that it would keep them above the icy water below. I don’t know what they are thinking, she smirked in thought. This is better. They are only making us more successful! If one falls in, soon they will drag the next one in, and the next one, until all of them are beneath the water. What bliss!

She looked at the long sword in her hand. Its golden hilt glittered like diamonds in the sun overhead. “I might not get to use you after all,” she sighed, but still she kept it close in deep anticipation of when the first Elf would fall.

[Lalwendë]

Hiding behind a bank of snow while waiting for the elves, Tarn hunkered down and pulled the white fur he wore tighter about his head to keep out the bitter wind. It howled wearily and insistently, and he well knew the power of its cold bite, but it was also music to his ears. It spoke of the endless empty expanse of space and time that surrounded the bay, his home. It was a comforting sound to him; when he heard it he knew he was in a place he could understand, and unlike some of the Corsairs, who were uneasy, he was still and quiet. Thynne crouched beside him, as still as his master; he too felt the music of the wailing wind and knew the comfort the sound could bring to a lonely hunter. Both of them held weapons ready; Tarn had his harpoon and a knife to hand, and one of the Corsairs had given Thynne a staff.

Earlier, Thynne had sat with Tarn while they ate breakfast and listened to the plans of the Captain. He had felt a little scared when the Captain warned them to be on their guard and prepared to fight. Scuffling with other boys was one thing, but he had never dared to fight with a full grown man or elf. Daring to whisper a question, he had asked "Tarn, have you ever killed a man?" Tarn had been surprised at the question, but he had not wanted to answer it. "What do you think?" he said enigmatically, without any further explanation. He had never killed another man in a fight; he had hurt a few, enough so that they would defer to him, but he had never knowingly killed a man, it had never been necessary. This was a fact he chose to keep to himself; that other people’s gossip and guessing about him helped his reputation, was something he was very aware of.

Tarn was feeling a tingle of excitement at seeing the elves again. They had not been so easy to observe during the expedition to the caves. He wanted to see just what these creatures that his grandfather had so distrusted were really like. More than that, he was curious just what it was about them that was driving the deep hatred of the Corsairs. He suspected it was something to do with pride and status; it was akin to his dislike of the superior attitude of the Lossoth elders. From what he knew, these elves were high and mighty, and he thought they must have held great store in the fact that while they did not age and wither, the men around them were not so lucky. He could appreciate how it would hurt the pride of the Corsairs if these disdainful creatures got to the treasure first, and he clutched his harpoon tighter.

***

The elves approached the ice with extreme caution. Tarn noted that they had roped themselves together for safety and were anchored on the shoreline. He saw the Lossoth helping them and wondered whether the manoeuvre had been an idea of the elves or of his kin. It was something which hunting parties would do often, usually when up on the glaciers which were particularly treacherous. He was so cautious of ice himself that he would never have attempted to venture onto any ice sheet without first testing it for safety; he thought that roping gave false confidence and was sure that a mishap would soon occur. He had seen the water which surged underneath that ice and he felt sure that even the strongest of men could not fight the current. If they were hoping to haul anyone out of there then the hope might be misplaced.


Tarn was struck by how calm the elves appeared, and how easily they moved. Compared to the Lossoth they all looked very young, and their faces were fair, and he began to wonder how much experience they would have of fighting, but then he remembered that his grandfather had told him that all elves looked young, even the old ones. Tarn's long-sighted eyes picked out the weapons they were carrying, which looked well crafted, and he almost blanched, but then noting how slightly built these elves were, he sneered a little, pulled his leather gloves tighter and cracked his knuckles. As long as he kept away from the Lossoth, he thought, he would walk through any fighting completely unscathed. The Lossoth who went across the ice with them were not as well equipped, and they were all shorter than Tarn, but he knew well how tenacious any of the Lossoth could be in a fight.

Tarn was full of disdain for the Lossoth who followed the elves, thinking they had been coerced into this. He felt superior thinking he had made a conscious choice to be here, that it was his choice to offer help to the Corsairs, as he had no Lossoth elders to answer to. He knew he could just get up and leave now, but something held him all the same. Whether it was the thrill of the chase, the intrigue or the sense of satisfaction he gained from being with these strange southerners, he could not say, but for the first time in many long years he was working as part of a group again.

All eyes were keenly trained on the activity out on the ice. Some of the Corsairs were even smirking, but all felt impatient to see what would be the results of their work. Tarn saw that Marreth was following everything with the eyes of an eagle. He seemed to be suffering from the cold less than the other Corsairs, and as Tarn watched, he realised that it was grim determination which held him there, and it would be this determination which would see the treasure in Corsair hands whatever it took.

[Kitanna]

Nilak had had trouble sleeping the last few nights. And he didn't like the idea of spending a day of drilling holes in the ice, but he didn't have much of a choice. He wanted treasure and it seemed the only way to ensure it was to take out these Elves.

He tried to get away with drilling as little as possible, but that had failed. Sernir had pushed an ax in his hand and watched him like a hawk as Nilak pounded away at the ice. Nilak grumbled and growled because it didn't appear that Sernir was doing much of anything. Nilak wanted nothing more than to take a knife to the Corsair's throat while he slept, but the Lossoth thought better.

Now Marreth's company hid from sight. They all watched as the Elves drew closer. They were weary and seemed to sense the traps laid out. Nilak watched as they tied themselves to together with rope. They were smarted then he thought. Nilak crouched down and watched intently as the Elves began to come across the ice.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Those behind on shore watched and waited as Luindal gingerly led the searchers onto the ice. Alahseey had coiled the end of the rope firmly around her arm and shoulder and was staring at the distant spot where Luindal and the others were searching. Hilde had done the same for Galhardir. Both ropes lay slack on top of the ice, snaking in and out of snow banks and continuing down to the frozen Bay; there was still a considerable length of line that could be unfurled if the companions wanted to continue their search further out on the Bay.

Each of the Elves and Lossoth with Luindal bore a long, pointed prod to steady their balance and help search for evidence of the missing Stones. Every few paces, someone halted and poked a prod into a hidden crevice or fissure to look for any sign of the Palantiri. One time, Galhardir yelled a warning to the others to avoid a particularly dangerous stretch of new ice that still looked to be unsteady.

Another contingent of Elves and Lossoth paraded along the outer perimeter of the beach with their weapons drawn and eyes alert: Luindal had alerted them to stand guard against a possible Corsair attack. Suddenly, out of the stillness, an urgent cry was heard from one of the search parties. The youngest pair of Elves, who had lagged too far behind, now found themselves stranded on a chunk of ice that had broken off and was drifting out towards the entrance to the Bay.

"Grab the lines! Hold tight!" Alahseey urged, her weapon slipping from her grasp as she ran forward and approached the ice floe as close as she could get.

Several Lossoth among the guards immediately surged forward to steady the ropes of the marooned Elves. Adroitly, the two leapt to safety, and the moment of danger passed.

Alahseey trudged back, bending down to retrieve her axe from the spot where she thought she'd left it. But the axe was nowhere to be seen; Hiilde also was gone. She had apparently joined the other Lossoth who'd run off to help the stranded searchers: two other Elves had taken her place at the end of Galhardir's rope. Alahseey quickly surveyed the adjoining shore and was surprised to notice her fallen axe lying some ways off towards the side, perched atop a knoll closer to the Bay. She ran over, picked it up, and slowly stood up....

[Regin Hardhammer]

Mareth had managed to inch further up the beach. Now safely crouched behind a rocky outcrop near the edge of shore, he was only thirty paces distant from the armed patrol and could see and hear everything going on. He grinned at the sight of the two idiotic Elves who didn't have enough sense to get themselves off a moving ice floe. As far as he was concerned, they could all float out to sea and sink to the bottom when the ice melted.

Sitting and watching the parade of events, he was more convinced than ever that the Stones must lie somewhere in the Bay. Why else would the Elves come all this way to stop him unless that was true? He had spent the greater part of the last two months searching on shore and had come up with exactly nothing. It was obvious the Stones weren't on land and that it was useless to hunt for them there. Marreth vowed that, once he got rid of these pesky Elves, he would concentrate his search in the Bay itself: somewhere on the bottom lay the treasure he sought. And he already had the resources he needed: trained seals to find the Stones, winches and ropes to pull them up.

As Marreth stared out at the searchers, he could see that Luindal and the others had just reached the point on the ice where the holes were drilled. Galhardir had forged ahead and was now in the lead. Too bad it wasn't an Elf in front who would take the first tumble! Still, he was going to enjoy this. Even if the ropes kept most of the Elves from being swept away, blades and arrows would do the rest of the job.

Marreth put both hands above his head, waved them in the air, and hooted like a snow owl, the signal they'd agreed to use. All he had to do was lower his arms, and the assault on the beach would begin....

Then he saw her. His informant had crept out from the others to do her mischief. Marreth almost roared with laughter. This innocent, middle-aged Lossoth who looked like nothing special was really a lion in disguise. A woman after his own heart! At least one of the Elves or Lossoth would soon be taking a swim, to be forever swept away by the currents. He resisted the urge to lower his arms at this point. Just one more minute and they would have the diversion they needed.

[Child of the 7th Age]

By now, the sun had risen high enough to be visible from across the Bay. The wind had picked up and remnents of old twigs and leaves skittered across the top of the ice. Thick clouds scudded into place and the soft pink promise of morning gave way to a sullen gray. The weather was turning against them. Luindal could make out Galhardir plodding about fifteen paces in front of him. But then, without warning, heavy sleet began to fall, stinging Luindal's face and hands and making it extremely difficult to see.

Within a matter of minutes, the freezing rain quickened: it was difficult to make out anything more than a few feet in front of his nose. And for those who lacked the Elven gift of far-seeing, the visibility would be even less. Luindal sighed and shook his head. The winds of chance did not seem to favor them. Even he could not hold the Corsairs responsible for a simple change in the weather. The Elf was about to signal his companions to halt their search and retreat to shore when something calamitous caught his eye, causing his stomach to plummet downward.

There was absolutely no sign of Galhardir anywhere. Sprinting forward as swiftly as he could, Luindal approached the spot where he had last seen his Lossoth companion. Galhardir was gone; neither was there any evidence of his rope. The only thing left was his sharp, pointed prod, carelessly hurled off to the side. Beside the prod was a huge round hole through which the waters of the Bay seethed angrily upward. Galhardir's fate was all too obvious. Luindal glanced behind him, straining to see through the thick curtain of sleet; he heard excited cries coming from other searchers who had apparently fallen into the Bay.

He bellowed out a warning to those in his party who had managed to stay upright on the ice, "Turn back. The ice is broken. Help any who have fallen through."

He retreated again to the gaping hole and was about to dive in, heedless of the danger and thinking only of his companion, when he felt a gentle restraining pressure on his shoulder. Off in the distance, he could hear other frantic voices sounding from the beach, "The rope's been cut. Galhardir's rope has been sliced cleanly in two..."

[Child of the 7th Age]

Orofaniel's post for Galhardir

All of a sudden it seemed so foggy. He couldn't see much, except for his feet and the small area of ice around it. There seemed to be no front and no back. What direction should he go? Where was Luindal? His heart beat faster as he panicked. He was lost, wasn't he? He struggled to find the rope around has waist. Luckily it was still there. A sigh of relief crossed his lips as he pulled the rope wit his hands with great effort. Then he noticed it; it had been cut. The split ends were now just in front of him and not in Hilde’s hands as it should have been. How could this be? A sudden panic hit him once again. He tried walking forwards, but he stopped as he wondered if it really was forwards at all. He could be going the opposite direction of the shore, he didn't know. He couldn't do anything but stand there, feeling his heart beat faster and faster for every minute that passed by. His limbs felt cold and uneasy, as he looked into the fog, looking for Luindal. However, it was all in vain.

"Luindal?" he whispered longing to hear Luindal’s voice again. It was nothing more than a whisper He was petrified and scared as he heard no reply from the Captain or any one else. Galhardir then decided to try on direction as he figured just standing there wouldn't get him out of this unpleasant and horrifying situation. Suddenly, he could feel the ice beneath him being torn apart. He didn't know what was happening, except for that he found himself balancing on one of the huge ice cubes. The sound of the cruel water as it hit the ice was drowning all his other thoughts. Never had Galhardir felt so utterly alone and helpless in his entire life. Thoughts weren't welcome in these situations, just actions. He had to gain his balance if he was to keep himself above the water. That was all that mattered; keeping himself above water, because if he fell in, his chances were low. He made a jump and it led him to safety, or so he thought. He then started to run, away form the area with the torn ice, and he didn't notice the big hole right in front of him. His speed was too great, and he didn’t noticed it before he had leapt right in it.

He clenched to the ice, not wanting to let go as half of his body was already in the cold water. The icy water had already gone through his clothes and his could feel it in his limps and bones. His voice tried yet again to call for help, but it was to no use. No one could help him now. He fingers still held tight to the ice, but he knew that he wouldn't manage to do it much longer as his body went cold and his mind flew far away. He couldn't help thinking about Gunnhild, his brothers' wife and his nephew, Rodhal.

Minutes passed, and still Gahardir held tight. He fought against the frost, but he knew he could not win this battle- the water was unbeatable. His hands and fingers were frozen and as a cold wind passed, he let go - Unwillingly of course. He just couldn't hold it any longer. He would fall into the cold water underneath it. He sank slowly, and as he felt his head hit the back the hard surface he knew he was trapped. Even if he had the energy to try saving his life, it wouldn't be impossible because he was now under the thick ruthless ice. With one last try to reach the surface that was still not covered with ice, he was out of breath.

[piosenniel]

‘I don’t think I’m well healed enough to drag two of you out of the water!’ Rôg winced as he pulled Luindal back from the ragged edge of the ice, his left arm twinging at the effort. The waters of the bay lapped up through it, spilling out onto the already slippery ice and making any footing all the more precarious. ‘You need to get back there and organize the effort to haul Galhardir out with the rope.’ He looked down to where the rope seemed to be inching in slowly beneath the ice. ‘I don’t know much about the tides and even less about the currents in the bay. But I can see that the poor fellow is being dragged in even further. And hurry, there’s little time.’

Rôg pushed the Elf back toward where the line of pullers had formed. Even now they could both see how the rescuers slipped forward on the ice, unable to make any headway against the current’s pull on the man at the other end of the line. Luindal took off at a run pausing once to look back, but all he could see was the tip of a dark brown flipper as it slipped into the hole, then disappeared from view.

~*~

He’d watched the seals come up through their airholes on his trip in the earlier part of the year with his Lossoth guide Bear. Awkward seeming out of the water, their large bodies drug about with their flippers and the undulating flapping across the ice that served as their fastest means of moving, he now marveled at the economy of motion with which they could propel and maneuver themselves in the water. He’d taken a deep breath before he’d dived beneath the ice. He’d seen them do that, and now he knew why.

The air streamed out in a slow procession of tiny bubbles from his nostrils as he swam quickly down the rope, his back touching the line as he went along to keep him on track. Only a few short seconds and he had come to where Galhardir was floating, his body bobbing up and down against the roof of ice. The Lossoth’s eyes were closed and he did not respond to the Rôg as he poked his nose hard against him.

Rôg sunk his sharp seal’s teeth into the man’s sodden leather parka and began swimming back along the rope. The current was strong and the heavy clothes the Lossoth wore made it hard to move him against it. Luckily, those on the other end of the rope, now that the resistance against them had gone were able to keep the rope taut. Their efforts combined with those of the little seal brought the unfortunate Lossoth up out of the water and onto the ice. Rôg followed soon after, a decidedly bedraggled appearing and gasping seal.

A number of the Elves and Lossoth had picked up Galhardir and were transporting him back to firmer land. They’d managed, it appeared to get him breathing once more, and he could hear him asking about his nephew. Rôg scrambled back into man form and trudged back toward where the lines had been tied to the trees. Something niggled at the back of his mind. Something not quite right about something he’d seen earlier, but the image of it wasn’t clear and had become more muddled as he’d heard the shouts that someone had gone under.

He had little time to recall it into sharper focus before the confusing cries of the attack came to him . . .

[Imladris]

Jynne narrowed his black eyes at the struggling elves and Snow men. For being surprisingly swift in escaping, they were taking their sweet time to creep across the ice. They probably suspected something...a hovering danger. He frowned. It was a curse to all parties concerned. The elves, of course, were always haunted with it while the lurking enemy never caught them fully unawares. He smiled grimly. Elves were never happy. Their death would finish their unlived lives.

The captain leaped from his hiding place and rushed upon the struggling Snowmen and elves. With a soft hiss, Jynne leaped from the snow, whipping the dagger from his belt. He slipped across the snow, sliding to a stop beside a rope that dangled into a drilled hole. Within a Snowman thrashed. Fear contorted his face. Screams, strangled by the icy water's clutching fingers, ripped from his throat.

Jynne gently, almost tenderly, picked up the rope, and fondled it in his fingers, smiling softly at the Snowman.

He stopped his screaming, and just looked the Corsair.

"Can you feel death approach?" whispered Jynne.

The Snowman glared at him.

"Maybe if you beg and grovel, I will save you," said Jynne with a leer.

The Snowman flung his spit at Jynne.

"Such nobleness," Jynne said silkily. "Have you ever noticed that nobility is often the sword plunged within a brave man's heart?" Jynne, with a slash of his knife, severed the rope.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth watched with delight as several of the Elves plunged into the icy cold current, their comrades clinging to the lines and attempting to haul them out. Everywhere there was pandemonium. Now, when all seemed in chaos, was the time to go forward: Marreth swiftly lowered his hand to signal the beginning of the attack.

Immediately, Corsair archers showered a cloud of arrows onto the frantic Elves, as Marreth and others of his crew drew out their swords. After a few volleys from the archers, Marreth gave the second signal to his men and charged into battle at the front of a column of his most trusted pirates. The battle for the shoreline had begun.

Marreth rushed toward the Elvish guards who had been set out on the beach as a protection for the searchers. Marreth much preferred sea battles to fighting on land, but he had learned how to use a rapier servicibly during his numerous expeditions. An Elf stood before him, with a sword pointing in Marreth's direction. The Captain stabbed forcefully at his enemy, but the warrior parried the blow and countered with one of his own. Their intense duel continued for several minutes, but Marreth did not relent. Suddenly, the Elf's foot hit a slippery patch of ice, causing him to fall onto the floor and knocking him unconcious.

His men had taken care of several other guards. With his path partially cleared, Marreth ran zealously foward, other Corsairs following on his heels, towards the Elvish forces farther out on the Bay, who had just finished pulling two of their shivering comrades in from the water. Marreth aimed to return victorious to his ship bearing Luindal's head, as an example for any others who dared to oppose the Corsairs.

[Niluial]

Elwë panicked. Panicking is not good, stay calm, think straight. “What… what do we do?” Andtuariel said panic-stricken.

“Just pull! Do whatever!” Elwë said, still trying to stay calm. “I knew something was wrong, I knew something was going to happen.” He said as he tugged at the rope, using all his energy.

A familiar voice called to them. Annu!. ‘What happened?’ Annû shouted to them. ‘The skinchanger,’ Elwë shouted back, ‘he’s gone in to help.’ Right after he had shouted it the man was out. Andtuariel and Elwë pulled the line with great effort to bring him back. As Elwë did so his arms shot with pain. He was tired and the icy air was biting into him.

Elwë closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. It was interrupted by a sudden shriek, a shriek that sounded like Andtuariel’s and following the shriek he heard Annu yell, “draw your weapons!” To Elwë’s surprise Southrons were charging towards them. “I told you that this day was going to be bad Andtuariel,” he said as he drew his weapon.

[Arry]

Annû

Annû had thrown off his clumsy gloves and untied himself as quickly as he could. The members of his search team were on solid footing, no danger of falling through the ice. Giving a sharp tug on the rope to get their attention, he waved wildly at them, motioning for them to come help pull in on the rope of the man who’d gone under. He sprinted toward where a number of others had gone to capture the slithering rope and added his weight to the pull, the rope grating on his still ungloved hands.

For a while it seemed a hopeless task, for every one step they managed to take back, the strong current seemed to pull them forward two. Annû heard some shouting at the front of the line and a very short time later the pull became easier. ‘What happened?’ he asked those in front of him. ‘The skinchanger,’ he heard back, ‘he’s gone in to help.’ Quickly following came the shout back that the man was out. Those at the front of the pull line ran forward with great haste to assist bringing him back.

Suddenly from behind him came the loud sounds of Elves and men shouting. Annû’s head whipped around, his eyes caught the sight of Southrons charging at those who stood guard along the beach. Arry yelled loudly fro his nearby companions to draw their weapons. Many of the Elves, including Annû knocked arrows to the long bows and fired a rapid volley toward the advancing troops. Then those with swords and clubs, men and Elf alike, charged at the advancing Corsairs attempting to drive them back. They fought hard against murderous spawn battering, slicing, and thrusting as they could. Those Southrons who broke through faced the deadly aim of the Elven archers. Both sides threw themselves hard against the other.

The snow and ice ran red with blood.

[Rinfanawen]

Diera flashed her blade brightly in the sun, as she made ready to face her foes. She was forced to make herself delay the attack longer than the others for the simple fact that she could not keep from laughing. Watching such graceful Elves and already comical Lossoth fall through the icy water caused her to break out in a prolonged laughter, and that’s saying a lot. She breathed deeply. It was time to kill.

She ran forth at an exhilarating sprint onto the ice. Her long sword was raised high above her head in the air. Though a frost was indeed in the area, she felt it not. Her heart beat quickly. It reverberated through her head to the same quickening pace of her snow-covered feet. She felt a slight chill on her legs as she ran, but her focus was directed solely on a lone Elf at the near side of the battle. The immortal one had been leaning near one of the holes trying to help a friend out of the frigid water, but the Elf now stood upright facing Diera. He pulled an arrow from the long quiver at his back and put it to his bow.

“Go on, Elf demon,” Diera shouted as she ran. “Try to resist me!”

The Elf shot a single arrow in the direct path of her, but Diera dodged it easily. Her long, golden-hilted sword soon met the Elf’s short sword in close combat. The force of Diera’s sprint threw the Elf back onto the ice. The Elf was quickly back on his feet with sword outstretched. Diera removed the small knife from the inside of her right boot, her sword being in her right hand. She rushed at the Elf. The Elf stood ready.

The battle between the Corsair and the Elf lasted for many extremely eventful moments. Suddenly Diera saw the Elf slash his sword at her left forearm. True was the strike, and it sliced through all layers of her clothing until it broke her skin. For the first time in a long while, she felt real warmth return. She cried out in anguish. The knife dropped from her hand, lost in the arctic snow below. Diera knelt in great pain. She stared up cruelly at the smiling Elf, and then beyond at the broken ice behind him. Soon you will join your friend in the frozen waters, Diera thought, as if the Elf could read her mind. Diera leaped forward with her sword before her. The Elf blocked her quick blow, and their swords clung together as Diera began to push the Elf back. The Elf resisted some, making the process slow, but Diera pressed on.

“I do not fear you, filthy Corsair!” the Elf yelled as he struggled to push back her sword.

Diera’s eyes widened at the absurd thought of her being considered filth. With all of her strength, she pushed the Elf through the hole in the ice and into the bitter water. She smiled as she spoke, “Perhaps you should have feared me, you filthy land-dweller!”
The Elf sunk below the water.

Diera paused for a moment as the pain in her arm increased. She held the wound firmly with her right hand. Blood started to seep through her fingers in little rivers flowing down her hand. She began to tear off a piece of cloth from her shirt to wrap the wound with, but she was distracted by an unpleasant voice in the air.

"Maybe if you beg and grovel, I will save you," said Jynne, not too far from where Diera stood.

Diera watched as Jynne held a rope to which an unfriendly Lossoth was holding. The Snowman flung his spit at Jynne.

"Such nobleness," Jynne said silkily. "Have you ever noticed that nobility is often the sword plunged within a brave man's heart?"

Jynne, with a slash of his knife, severed the rope. Diera quickly ran towards Jynne. With her blood-covered hand, she gripped hold of his shirt tightly.

“What was that?” Diera scolded angrily. “You listen to me, Jynne. I hate those Elves as much as you do, probably more, and I enjoy nothing more than ending their pathetic immortal lives...but do be humane about it, please! That goes for Lossoth as well.”

Diera removed her grip from Jynne’s shirt. Taking no notice of any remark Jynne might have made to her comment, if he made one at all, she returned to the perilous battle on the ice.

[Arry]

Carandû

From his vantage point, Carandû looked on in horror at the quick and deadly turn of events. His first thought was for his brother, and he cursed the decision that made him stay apart from him. But Annû looked to be alright for the moment – he was still on safe footing and Carandû saw he’d readied his bow and had begun to fire at the advancing Corsairs, taking down a number of those foolish enough not to retreat. The Elven archers were too few though. The Corsairs pushed on. Carandu, whose position was to the side and slightly behind the Corsairs, began firing his own bow at the Southron line. Many of his arrows buried themselves in the backs and thighs of the attackers. A few volleys and then he ran toward the battle, his sword in hand

As he ran, he saw his brother sling his bow on his back and draw forth his ironwood club. It had been a long, long time since the brothers had engaged in any battles. But the skills of war, once learned and then applied, come readily back to the warrior. His thoughts narrowed down to the foe before him; his sword arm recalled the patterns of feint, and slice, and thrust.

Carandû’s one wish was to be at his brother’s side. He would kill without regret those who stood in his way.

[Lalwendë]

At the first signal, Tarn made ready his harpoon and quickly issued instructions to the lad who sat quaking beside him. He could see the fear building in his wide eyes.

“You stay here, with the archers, and keep out of the charge. Your job is to help defend the archers, if any of that lot get near them.” He nodded towards the club which Thynne was clutching to his chest. “You use that and you do not hesitate. Or you will die”.

The second signal was given and before Thynne could say anything in response, Tarn was up and charging with the Corsairs, down towards the ice where confusion was reigning. His long legs and sure footing enabled him to be amongst the first to reach the shoreline, where those holding the ropes were now shouting frantically to their comrades on the ice. A young Lossoth man was holding fast to one of the ropes, unable to let go lest the rope slide into the water, and as Tarn ran up to him he yelled out in fear. Tarn grinned and threw himself against the man with his full body weight, bringing him down to the ground in a heap where he then turned him face down into the freezing snow. “See how you like this, fool” he shouted. The man choked and coughed, trying to break free of the strong hold Tarn had him in. He still did not let go of the rope.

Tarn stood up and the man slowly rolled around onto his back, his face stinging with the shock of the cold, suffocating snow. His breath came in gasps at first, but then it barely came at all and it was clear he was not going to go anywhere. Tarn saw how he still held the rope and grimly bent down and quickly cut it.

He turned then, and seeing the mayhem breaking out on the ice sheet, ran across with his harpoon and knife ready. Already there were several injured or dead laying still. An elf wielding a shining blade parried with a Corsair and had the better of him, then seeing Tarn, he came loping towards him, unsteady on the ice. Tarn, sure footed, roared at him and ran even faster, ready for the attack. At the last moment he stuck out his left leg, catching the elf around the ankle and felled him.

The elf did not land as heavily as he had expected, and he was only a little winded. Starting to run on, Tarn noticed that this elf was about to get up again, and with only a moment‘s thought, he hefted the harpoon up onto his shoulder and hurled it. It landed with sickening accuracy in the side of the elf, who fell back down. Tarn’s eyes flashed for a moment, and then he returned.

Putting his foot on the body to steady himself, he yanked the harpoon out. Blood started to seep across the ice, and as Tarn began to feel a rush of nausea, he heard the shouts of the Corsair men he had helped the day before, who were struggling against several opponents. Adrenalin stifling the strange sensation of having killed the elf, he began to fight his way through to the men.

[Kitanna]

Nilak waited for Marreth's signal. He was tired of waiting. Let's attack and get it all over with, he thought rubbing his gloved hands together. He had his harpoon ready and his dagger was ready to spill some blood.

He heard Marreth's snowowl signal and now waited for the captain to lower his arms. Nilak sat completely still, just waiting, watching. Finally the Corsair captain gave them the signal. Nilak sprang from his hiding spot and fell in the charge with the Corsairs and other Lossoth's.

Nilak charged a Lossoth who had been helping the Elves. He elbowed him hard in the stomach and when the Lossoth was bent over trying to recover Nilak ran his harpoon through. The blood streamed down onto the ice and the dying Lossoth landed inthe puddle that had formed.

Nilak was no stranger to killing sailors and traders, but he felt odd about killing another Lossoth. But he could not stop to dwell on this feeling of guilt, there were still Elves to get. He pulled his harpoon from the fallen Lossoth and charged forward again.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Luindal had clawed his way onto the beach, stopping every now and then to assist those who were battling the Corsairs, or to lend a hand on the ropes. Finally reaching the shoreline, he darted over the crusted snow, halting just once to examine the remains of Galhardir's rope that still lay on the upper beach. He could see that it had been hacked in two, quite possibly by an axe. Moreover, the frayed ends of the rope suggested that there had been two or three successive blows rather than a single master stroke.

The beach itself was almost empty. Most of the rescuers had surged forward onto the ice in their frantic attempts to coil in the ropes and haul out the men who had fallen into the water. Footprints left behind in the grey snow revealed the spots where Corsairs and Elves had grappled with each other; the ground beneath was tinged an ominous red. The Corsairs had trampled over the field of battle, continuing their charge to the Bay where the enemy were grouped in greater numbers. The only ones left behind were Hilde, Alhaseey, and Freyn, each of whom was helping to care for those injured in the fighting. The three Lossoth had found a secluded niche sheltered by evergreens on the far side of the bank where they could tend the wounded in relative peace.

Luindal barged into the glade, shook his head in utter frustration, and growled to Alahseey, "I have come too late. I had hoped to find out who severed Galhardir's line. That had to come from within our company. And one viper from within can do more damage than a hundred Corsairs." He scanned the beach and bristled, "Where is that rascal Carrandû?"

Hilde responded quickly, "I have not seen Carrandû. But perhaps your trip is not in vain. I was able to spot the culprit who did this." She stared over at Alahseey and raised her hand, pointing a single finger at the Elder. "This one!" she glared, her face agleem. "This one....I have seen it with my own eyes. I am ashamed....ashamed that one of our Elders should act thus. But I am certain of what I saw. She raised her axe two, no three times, and cleanly severed the rope."

At this description of the deed, Luindal blanched white and gazed at the Elder, still unsure. "Surely though, you are mistaken."

"I am no traitor," Alhaseey barked. "Why say you this, Hilde?" And then her own eyes dawned with understanding.

"Speak not. Show him the axe at your side. For on its blade rides your guilt."

"That I will do," responded the woman, and eagerly drew the axe from her sheath, handing it to Luindal. At the edge of the blade, Luindal clearly saw the ragged shreds of a rope cut through in two or three strokes, one that bore witness to the Elder's seeming guilt.

"This is a lie," countered Alahseey.

"We have no time now." Luindal glanced about and saw that Freyn had finished treating the injured. "Hilde, stay in this cove and tend to the wounded till our fight is done."

He stared next at Alahseey, "Freyn, take charge of this woman. Bind her in tight cords and give no heed to what she says. After we return to the ship, we will speak further on this matter."

With a heavy heart, Luindal turned and raced back to his men.

[piosenniel]

Battle was something that did not sit well with the skinchanger. He was a bookish sort, given to the study of animals, birds in particular. Fighting was something he tended to avoid if at all possible. But there was nothing to be done about it . . . the Corsairs had sprung a sneak attack on the Elves and their Lossoth helpers. Blood was already being spilled . . . a number of the Lossoth and Elves had fallen into the frigid waters and were in danger of drowning because others of their companions could not get to them through the press of battle.

Rôg had no weapon. He was no bowman and to be honest the only blade he’d ever wielded were the knives he used for cooking. A lance . . . no . . . nor a club, either. He did have the little sling he used for hunting small game. But a quick look at the well padded, well armed Corsairs drove that idea from his mind.

And besides that . . . as a man he really didn’t relish the thought of killing other men . . .

Still, he didn’t like the thought of his friends getting hurt and killed, either.

By this time Rôg had managed to circle round behind the Corsairs’ advancing line. Less fighting in the rear . . . safer . . . but then again he could see the bowmen sending their barrage of arrows toward his companions. Perhaps if he just harassed them, knocked them about a bit . . . disrupted their attack . . .

Aaah! But how to do that. He was already slipping and sliding about on the ice and snow like some ungainly gooney bird on loose sand. And what would he use for weapons . . . He looked down at his empty hands and the snow at his feet. The insane desire to giggle nearly overtook him as he thought of making snowballs and lobbing them at the Corsairs.

In the distance he could see a number of the Lossoth friendly to the Elves fall beneath the blades of the advancing Corsairs. An image came to him, of the great white beast with the toothy smile that Bear, his Lossoth guide, had told him was his family’s spirit animal. They’d seen one out on the ice flows, hunting seal. Slow moving, massive, paws the size of large dinner plates with long sharp claws. The face of the snow bear had an intelligent air as the beast turned to look at him, considering whether the expense of energy to chase after the two humans was worth the meal to be gotten. The bear had risen up on his hind legs to get a better look at the two men who were viewing him. Almost twice the height of a tall man . . . the very size of him was intimidating . . . they had driven their sled away quickly, leaving the bear to his previous pursuit of a tasty seal.

The change took longer than his more familiar forms. Once it was complete, Rôg was surprised how gracefully the massive body of the bear moved over the snow and uneven ground. The pads moved silently over the ice without slipping. He swung his great head from side to side, taking in the figures of the Corsair bowmen. His lips drew back from his long, sharp yellowed teeth in a feral smile. Bears it seemed did enjoy the hunt and relished the kill, he realized . . . and he found himself thinking how delightful it would be to hear the crunch of his prey’s bones as he bit down hard on a leg or shoulder . . . and the marrow, so sweet . . .

Rôg shook his head to bring his thoughts back from the brink of red, ravening madness . . . He loped up silently behind the archers that were still firing and gave a low rumbling growl. Lunging forward, he reared up not quite to his full height and began knocking them down like so many clay pots with brutish swipes of his immense paws, throwing many into the air as he did so.

And those foolish heroes who chose to face him down, he simply knocked flat, swatting aside their blades and bows and spears – his cavernous maw clamping down on their skulls, crunching them as easily as a squirrel does an acorn.

[Taralphiel]

The day had been long for Freyn, longer for the need for attention that many injured in their Company had. Freyn's supply of blams, bandages, and poultices was being well used, and he wondered quietly how long he would have before they ran out. He was still idly throwing this though about in his mind, when his name was called to jolt him out of his daydreaming.

"Freyn, take charge of this woman. Bind her in tight cords and give no heed to what she says. After we return to the ship, we will speak further on this matter."

Freyn saw the distraught look on Alhaseey's face, and the anger the brewed not far under it. He bit his lip a moment, as he slowly stood, looking calmly at her. He began a small mutter of appeal for the woman to come with him, but it ended in his throat when he watched her expression again.

Freyn nodded at Luindal mutely, taking the woman by one shoulder and leading her to where he could safely restrain her. All the way the woman voiced protests, and Freyn paid no heed to them. All the while, he was pondering on what words could calm the situation, at least for Alhaseey.

Carefully, though tightly he bound her, and kneeling before her, began awkwardly:

"I have not much advice to give, save this. Luindal is fair in his judgement, and I have seen little to the contrary. I would wait for the chance to prove your innocence. Arguing may simply be digging a greater hole for yourself..."

Freyn looked at her cautiously, wondering what her reaction would be. He knew what was wisdom in this situation, but he had yet to learn how to best put that forward.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Alahseey gave Freyn a stern look, drew herself up, and scowled, "Fair, he may be. But unless someone acts quickly, many of our companions may died....Elves and Lossoth alike. I am not the spy. But while I sit here trussed up like a game bird, unable to break loose or fight, the real informer is free to weave a web of murder and intrigue. That person must be stopped!"

"Perhaps, Freyn, you and I can come to some agreement. You have known me many years, and we have never had harsh words with each other. I give you my pledge that I will wear my restraints willingly and give you no trouble on our journey back to the ship. I ask but one thing: that you will stand up and speak on my behalf once we reach the ship. I am sure Luindal will call a meeting to inquire into today's treachery. And he will respect our laws and traditions, requiring two men or women to come forth and voice their accusation of me. I do not believe he will find an accuser other than Hilde.

As to the axe, I can explain: it was a filthy trick played by the person who has the most to lose in this situation--the person who is actually responsible for slicing that rope. Most importantly, ask Luindal to listen to my words. I believe I know a way to ferret out this imposter. And, if we are lucky, perhaps one or two others have also seen evidence of this treachery.'

"Can you do that Freyn? I ask you to do nothing dishonorable, nor to break your pledge to the Elf, but merely to speak out on my behalf so that the truth may be heard....."

[Imladris]

Jynne heard a growl and swivelling his head around saw a lumbering bear galumph across the snow. Where had that come from? He had heard stories of bears sleeping peacefully in caves, dreaming of bees and honey as the winter months drifted away. But then again were bears this far north?

No matter. Whatever it was -- Jynne's eyes narrowed -- it was on a rampage. He noticed that it was targetting Corsairs. Those dratted elves.

Jynne glared banefully at the bear before plunging himself into a snowbank and rowling like a newly washed dog in the dirt. Hopefully the snow would smother his pirate scent.

[Arry]

‘Get the wounded behind us, brother!’ shouted Carandû.

The Elf had worked his way methodically through to Annû’s side. A number of Corsairs had fallen, killed or wounded by him, but for the most part he had made his way round the edges of the skirmish, wanting to get to his brother quickly. At one point he had seen the skinchanger lurking about the back lines of the Corsair troops, unarmed as far as he could see. Carandû had almost stopped, thinking that he might have to take the man to a safe place and collect him later. His assessment of the situation, in the slow wink of an eye, had changed radically as the form of a great white bear took the place of the man. The Elf gasped even as he marveled at the bear, but the head of the animal turned toward him briefly, giving him toothy smile before it ambled toward the Corsair bowmen.

Now Carandû had come to his brother’s side. Nearby he could see Elwë and Andtuariel. Elwë was using his crossbow to keep what attackers he could at a distance, while Annû used his heavy club now in the little group’s defense. Andtuariel was armed only with her dagger and stood watch over a number of the Lossoth who had fallen near them.

Carandû fired a number of arrows toward the Corsairs his brother and Elwë were battling; then, slinging his bow on his back, drew his sword again and stood close by Annû, who had already closed ranks now with Elwë. Andtuariel and the others were behind them, and those she could rally, whose wounds were not too severe, she bade them keep weapons ready should their little line break.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Rinfanawen's post

Diera plunged quickly back into the fierce battle on the ice. She dodged many swinging Elven swords as she carefully made her way towards an evil Lossoth on the other side. It's my turn now, Lossoth, she thought. Dreaded creature...this is your last day to live. The Lossoth had recently finished a quarrel with one of the Corsairs, whom, to her dismay, Diera saw lying breathless upon the frozen grave beneath him. She stared at the Snowman in fury. This deep-seated hate had lingered far too long, and it was time to revenge her fallen crewman. Diera almost felt sorrowful at the fact that she did not even know the crew member's name, but she determined to avenge his death nonetheless.

The Lossoth waited cautiously with his bloodstained weapon hanging at his side. Diera slowed her sprint to a halt and bent down towards the snow, not taking her eyes off the Lossoth. She wiped her blade smoothly in the snow, as she did before every new battle, to clean her sword of any blood from a previous foe. Her uncle taught her once that this symbolized respect for the fallen ones. To her, it showed her enemy the true identity of the weapon and how sharp it really was. Diera stood slowly. She moved her wrist in a circular motion, making the sword wind throughout the air. Suddenly she stopped her wrist as the sword met an upright position in the air. She placed her left arm firmly against her stomach to protect it from any further harm. The first move was made.

Diera thrust her right arm forward at the Lossoth with great strength. She felt her blow push back from where it hit the Lossoth's weapon. She swung around to block the swing of her foe. The Lossoth counterattacked with his weapon, but it was to no great use, for Diera had already struck her enemy to the ground. Diera began to walk away. She turned her back on her supposed fallen foe to find her feet being drug from beneath her. She fell suddenly to the snow and landed hard in the impact. The Lossoth began to drag her across the ice toward a broken hole. Dropping her sword in the fall, she had no choice but to reach for her knife with her left hand. A thousand bolts of lightning seemed to shoot through her arm as she struggled to grab hold of the knife. Her arm grew warm again with blood flowing towards the wound.

The Lossoth pulled harder and harder, limping with his right leg as he walked toward the hole. Diera saw the broken ice not far ahead. The Snowman grinned. Diera grew furious at her foe and screamed out in anger.

"No irony is to be made of me!" She yelled trying to pull herself closer to her foe. "I will not die in the trap meant for my enemy!"

Diera hurled herself forward with all of her might, her leg still being pulled by the Lossoth enemy. Using her left hand, she slashed her knife as high as she could, so to not penetrate her own flesh. The knife cut through the Lossoth's lower left thigh. Diera's foot was set free. The Lossoth slid back in pain, but Diera had not yet succeeded in the battle. She stood abruptly. Wasting not even a single moment, she rushed forward and slit the throat of her crouching foe. The Lossoth died quickly.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Lalwendë's post

Three elves and two Lossoth men were fighting hard against three Corsair men, and were slowly driving them back towards a hidden hole in the ice. The Corsairs knew the hole was there but they were losing their strength and their opponents had blocked any chance of escape. Tarn saw the look of panic on the faces of the men and struggled through the battle towards them.

As he got close to the men, he brandished his harpoon and shouted “Come and get some of this!” Then he stood firm holding the weapon ready as one of the elves and both of the Lossoth men turned towards him, grimacing. “Tarn, what a surprise to see you here,” said one of the men sarcastically. “This man might look high and mighty, but I can assure you, he’s no better than a mangy dog” the man said to the elf.

“And you are nothing but a stripling and a coward” Tarn sneered at the man, who was barely out of his youth. “Think you’re something special out here with these elves do you? Nothing but the fifth son of a pauper who pickles pilchards for a living, and still you think of yourself as better than me. You could not fight your way out of a barrel of vinegar!”

The young man’s face turned red with anger and he ran at Tarn, a reaction the older man had been hoping to provoke. With a wry look on his face, Tarn whipped out his knife and stooping quickly, shoved it into the back of the man’s shin as he ran past, missing Tarn’s manoeuvre in his haste. The man stumbled with a cry and Tarn whipped out the knife, jabbing it in the air before the other Lossoth man, who had now come forwards, furious at Tarn’s actions.

“You too? You want to taste this knife?” yelled Tarn, rushing towards the man, who turned and ran away. He shouted at him in derision as he loped off, and kicked the younger man who lay groaning, unable to get up.

Two of the Corsairs had managed to draw off one of the other elves and were driving him back to the shore, and one remained in combat with the remaining Corsair, the biggest of the southerners. But the first elf, who had come forwards with the two Lossoth men was now facing Tarn, and he looked unruffled. He held a slender sword outstretched and did not move. Tarn sidestepped around him holding the harpoon ready. He was not going to make the first move, but he jerked the weapon slightly as though he were about to thrust it towards the elf, who responded by jabbing the sword at Tarn’s stomach. Tarn jumped back and quickly swung the harpoon down at the elf, who sidestepped nimbly.

To his alarm, the elf quickly came behind Tarn and locked his arm around his neck. As he was about to thrust the sword into the man, Tarn jabbed his elbow back hard into the elf’s stomach, winding him. He used all his strength and took hold of the elf, almost as tall as he was, and threw him down. The elf dropped his sword with the force of his landing, and as he struggled to catch hold of it, Tarn saw it lying there.

He went to grab the weapon but the elf was there first and though he was still prone, he took the sword in his hand and slashed it towards Tarn’s shoulder. Tarn ducked, throwing his weight down onto the prone elf, and though he did not receive a fatal blow, he felt the sword slash at the skin on his upper arm, and felt the hot gush of blood swelling up. His head filled with a seething rage, he took hold of the collar of the elf’s jerkin and staring him in the eye, overflowing with vengeance, he bashed the elf’s head with his own.

The elf lay still and Tarn got up too quickly, feeling dizzy with the loss of blood to his arm. He stumbled on the ice and went back down to his knees. As he caught his breath, he saw the elven sword, stained with his own blood, and grasped hold of it; luckily the injury had been done to his left arm. Wincing as he tried to stand again, he looked for the big Corsair man who was nowhere to be seen. The elf he had been battling was now engaged with another fight. Tarn’s eyes widened as he realised where the man must be. The pain in his arm briefly forgotten, he rushed across to where he knew the hole to have been, and crouched down at the edge of the break in the ice.

The Corsair was grimly hanging onto an axe which he had thrust into the ice sheet. Tarn could see his face, turning blue with the cold, but the rest of his body was under the ice sheet, unable to resist the strong pull of the swift current. The man’s eyes were still open and they flashed a look of panic as he saw Tarn; he was unable to talk. Taking his harpoon and quickly working the hook in the blade under the man’s collar, Tarn heaved as hard as he could and managed to draw the man back closer to the opening in the ice. He took hold of the man’s other arm and winced as he felt the cold water yet kept a firm hold. With his injured arm he removed the harpoon and flung it behind him then took hold of the hand which still held the axe, and dragged the man up and out of the water.

Tarn looked at him briefly. The battle was far away from them now and he could afford a few minutes to make sure the Corsair was going to live. He liked the man. He had been more friendly than some of the other Corsairs, and they had spent some time talking about their shared interest in hunting on the previous day. He wanted him to live. Remembering the flask of fiery spirits the man had offered around, Tarn searched his soaking pockets for it. The drink was not frozen, and Tarn poured a little onto the man’s lips. He spluttered and motioned thanks. Finding a fur from a fallen elf, Tarn placed it onto the man in the hope of warming him up, and headed off to find a sled for the man’s rescue.

[Taralphiel]

Freyn listened to Alahseey speak her case, and nodded along with it. Truth she spoke of their long friendship. Freyn had always respected her position, and he knew well she was a strong and dependable leader.

"Can you do that Freyn? I ask you to do nothing dishonorable, nor to break your pledge to the Elf, but merely to speak out on my behalf so that the truth may be heard....."

Freyn knew something had been bothering him about the Company members. He felt that there was danger, apart from what Nature had already dealt.

"Aye, I see something amiss, Alahseey, and so I will do this for you. I also fear this same threat upon our Company, and I will keep my guard tonight, and as long as I must before it is all over..."

[Kitanna]

Nilak continued to advance across the ice. He knocked down a few Lossoth and even one or two Elves with his harpoon. The tip was stained with the blood of men who had not been so very different from him and life. Nilak tried not to think about it. This was just like all those boats he'd help sink in the shore. No different.

Nilak was suddenly hit from behind. Another Lossoth body slammed him, knocking him to the ground facedown. The snow stung his face and he tried to get to his feet. Whoever knocked him down wasn't very strong so Nilak was able to push him off and get back to his feet.

The other Lossoth was still sitting in the snow. Weaponless. He reached out and grabbed Nilak by the leg and attempted to sink his teeth in. The Lossoth was so desperate he was resorting to biting Nilak. Luckily his boots would block out the attempt. Nilak drew out his dagger and ran it through the other Lossoth's chest.

He made a gurgling sound and spit up blood on Nilak's boots and all over the ice. He sat there twitching by Nilak's feet and trying to say something. Nilak took pity on him and decided to end his suffering. He lifted his harpoon high and drove into the other's chest.

[Orofaniel]

The drowsiness made him dizzy as he lay still. He was drifting away. The dreams were all over and he found it hard seperating them. What was real and what fantasy? He couldn't stay on one path only; it was as if he had no control at all. Sighing in his endless sleep he lay there. Around him followed a battle, a bloody battle between the Corsairs and the Elves. He knew this because he was somewhat conscious, but at the same time he was dead to the world. He could feel the warming heath around his throat as he had great difficulties breathing. He struggled against the fever that was about to come over him. He had been in the icy water for a long time and this was the result.

Suddenly, he could hear Annû’s and Carandû’s voice. The words were not easy to understand, but at least he heard the voices of those friendly creatures. He tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn't let him. Another struggle followed. Two faint shapes were standing in front of him, fighting like heroes against the horrible Corsairs that wanted to see the Elven brothers' blood flow on the ice. The brothers wanted the opposite - he could tell by their way of fighting. As he saw how the Corsairs attacked them, he felt like he was suffocation. He would lie there and watch them fall without doing anything. He struggled again, trying to move his cold body. It worked. His hands clenched to the solid ground, fighting himself up in a sitting position. His vision however, was still faint and he still felt like he was burning up inside.

"Behind you Galhardir!" A voice cried. Galhardir turned, and it seemed like an eternity before he noticed what was coming towards him. A sword was going to strike him right down if he didn't move quickly. His thoughts weren't clear, nor was his vision, so what was he going to do? Fumbeling on all four, he managed to seize a club just in time before it was to late. He hewed it through the air and hit the man that was coming for him. He fell to the ground with a great sound, and found himself now on Galhardir's level. As the Corsair yet again tried to get a hold of his sword, one of the elven brothers then managed to force an attack. The Corsair got up, and fought back; leaving Galhardir was out of danger – for now, at least. Thinking of Annû and Carandû as his good friends as they had saved him from the enemy, Galhardir fell again to the ground as he fainted.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Sprinting down to the ice to take his place beside the other fighters, Luindal had only a moment to dwell upon the strange scene that had taken place between Alahseey and Hilde. The tiny shreads of rope on the axe blade seemingly confirmed Hilde's accusation. Yet Luindal wondered if this was the whole story: perhaps something more was going on than first seemed apparent . Something niggled uncomfortably at the back of his mind, but he had no specific objections to offer, only a vague feeling of discomfort.

For the next few hours, he had little time to think about either of the women. His own hands were full: making sure that his wounded were conveyed to a place of safety, darting in and out to reinforce the small groups that were battling the Corsairs, and going hand to hand in combat with individual Corsairs. Throughout the entire afternoon, Luindal made a point to notice where the Corsair sea captain was fighting. Despite his growing dislike of the man, he could not help but admire an opponent who so craftily used every means at his disposal. The holes in the ice, like the rocks in front of the door of the cavern, had clearly not gotten there by accident.

Several times, Luindal attempted to force the Corsair captain to come out and directly engage him. But the man was maddeningly allusive, and seemed to enjoy playing a cat and mouse game. Luindal could have sworn that the fellow was enjoying poking fun at his earnestness. If he hadn't known otherwise, Luindal would have said that the Corsair leader almost seemed to know him, his likes and dislikes and what strategy he would be most likely to adopt. They seemed to be acting out an old, familiar dance, a fact that infuriated Luindal even more.

Luindal's desire to strike a personal blow at Marreth had at least two motivations. First, without their leader, the Corsairs would be much less effective and might decide to leave the Bay; at the very least, the group should dissolve in warring factions. Yet, there was another element as well: a personal sense that this fellow had played him for an innocent, that he'd had enough of this upstart and would like to strike a blow that would push the smirk off Marreth's face, and avenge the suffererings of his own men.

Luindal had decided to give chase to the Captain with the intent of engaging him one-on-one when the white bear came stumbling through the lines, his long tongue lolling from his great maw and his chest heaving with exertion, "Luindal, we've many wounded. And the men are tired. We can not go on like this. Call a retreat. Our job is to seize the Stones, not to engage in bloody combat down to the death of the final man. I do not think the Corsairs will follow, for they are close to exhaustion themselves. There is a way off the beach under the shelter of those scrub evergreens that will give us cover to get away."

For an instant, Luindal opened his mouth to object: he wanted to chase after his wily opponent and teach him a lesson, not go running off to his ship. Then he thought twice and shook his head, "You are right. These Corsairs make us forget why we are here." Luindal raised the horn to his mouth and sounded the three long notes to regroup and retreat. He watched as men and Elves pulled back from the fray and slowly made their way down towards the southern portion of the shore. He started trotting in that direction beside his friend Rôg and glanced back once over his shoulder. He could have sworn that Marreth was laughing at him....

[Regin Hardhammer]

The combat that afternoon had been harsh, but the men fought with vigor and out of a sense of allegiance to their beloved Captain. Marreth fought alongside them, his brown cloak billowing out behind him as he dashed from one end of the shore to the other, engaging various Elves in hand to hand combat. He had killed or wounded three of them already, although he had fought many more.

Marreth was careful to be constantly moving so as to make himself a harder target for anyone wanting to pick him off. Despite Marreth’s intense hatred of the Elvish warriors and their appearance of being too soft, he had to admit that they were dauntless fighters and very well trained. His own crew was growing weary from the dense and unrelenting combat: several had died and many more were wounded. Marreth did not want to tell his men to retreat, fearing that it might convey weakness to the other side. But if a break in the fighting did not come soon, he felt he had little other choice.

Marreth had just finished skewering the head of another Elf with his rapier when three long, dulcet notes rang through the air, and Luindal’s party began to scamper towards shore. “Bloody cowards,” Marreth roared out to his crew, “Mates, we pounded them like an angry storm thrashing a frigate. But we are tired, and I hardly think that we have any need to finish them off. They have learned never to meddle with Captain Marreth and his crew.”

Despite his bold words, Marreth was very glad that Luindal had decided to retreat first, allowing the Captain to save face. In actuality, the battle had likely been a draw, and Marreth did not see how one side would have been able to gain any sort of clear advantage.

Smiling as he watched the Elves retreat, Marreth froze when Luindal sprinted past him. This meddlesome Elf was the chief obstacle that prevented the Corsairs from obtaining the Palantiri. And, although he was reluctant to admit it, Luindal had proven a shrewd and able adversary. Shivering with excitement, Marreth imagined the Elvish party retreating with the corpse of their dead leader. Now was the prime opportunity to eliminate this threat once and for all.

But taking out the Elvish leader meant much more to Marreth than simply a practical matter of getting rid of the intruder. Marreth’s insides bubbled with steaming anger against the leader. This hatred arose not only from the fact that Luindal had wounded or killed several of his beloved crewmembers, but also on account of his own father driven to madness and murdered by the Elf’s Gondorian allies after they summoned the living dead. In Marreth's mind, Luindal was becoming the symbol of everything that had given him trouble and was responsible for the death of this own beloved father.

Marreth snatched a longbow off the back of a crewmate and steadied his arm as he darted forward and aimed for the vile creature’s heart. Deftly, he plucked the drawstring, hurling the arrow through the air towards the leader. He drew back his arm and let the arrow fly straight and true. But, by chance, a gust of wind came from nowhere and pushed the arrow sideways, so that it grazed the side of Luindal's arm. The Elf looked up, dazed and confused, and saw Marreth’s scowling face. Before Luindal could return fire, Marreth dashed away, cursing the vile wind that had knocked the arrow from its path. Despite the disappointment, Marreth was not unhappy. He consoled himself with the fact that he had wounded and sent a clear message to Luindal. The Elvish leader should take heed of the signal that Marreth had given him: he was in grave danger of losing his life.....

Shouting out to his own men to pull back, Marreth led the Corsairs towards the shore oppsite the one where Luindal and his crew had headed.

[Arry]

Not all the Elves had retreated. The small group of wounded, which the two brothers alongside Elwë and Andtuariel were protecting, were just being helped to their feet as the main body of Elves and Lossoth allies followed after the Captain. Annû heard the horn call that signaled the troops to pull back. He knelt down and hoisted one of the wounded up, putting the man’s arm across his shoulders. Elwë and his sister had already helped the rest of the wounded up and had turned to guide them toward the southern part of the shore.

‘Come, brother,’ Annû said, putting his hand on Carandû’s arm. ‘Let us make haste to join the others. These men need the services of the healer.’

‘Start toward where the rest of our group is headed,’ returned Carandû. Not taking his eyes off something in the distance, he shrugged off his brother’s hand and waved him on.

His gaze was on the one who had just shot at Luindal. ‘Foul men of Harad,’ he muttered. ‘Bedfellows still to Mordor’s shadow,’ he cursed, seeing the shaft graze his Captain’s arm.

The Elven warriors of Rivendell trained long in the uses of their weapons. And by the time he had been sent to escort the Lady Celebrian to the Havens, Carandû was already a master of the bow. He nocked an arrow quickly and drew back his longbow, murmuring a plea to Manwë as he did so.

'O King to whom all birds are dear, speed now this feathered shaft, and recall some pity for the Firstborn in their need!

His shaft flew true and would have pinned the Southron dog between the shoulder blades, save for the quick jog to the left the Corsair captain made as he sidestepped a small group of dead men that lay in his way. Instead, Carandû saw the shaft nick the man’s right shoulder, then fall to the ground as the Corsair yanked it from him.

Face impassive, Carandû gazed a short time at the Corsair, then turned quickly on his heel and returned to help his brother and the others bring the wounded to safety.

[piosenniel]

Rôg hastened to his friend’s side. Luindal had grabbed his arm as the arrow grazed it, his gaze turning toward the Corsair’s leering face. ‘Don’t stand there like some great Eldar strawman target! Come on now!’ Rôg grasped onto the Elf’s uninjured arm and hurried him along.

Soon they found themselves at a forested area along the southern part of the beach along with the other survivors. Rôg called for one of the healers to come over and look to the captain’s injury. Luindal waved the woman away saying he wanted the others seen to first. ‘Oh, and what will we do when you fall ill from your wound and there is no captain to guide us in through the remainder of this task?’ The healer raised her brow and pointed to the Captain’s arm, indicating he should push up his sleeve and let the wound be seen to. Luindal acquiesced as Rôg reminded him the longer he kept the healer waiting, the longer it would take for others to be treated.

He left the captain in the care of the healer and wandered about beneath the trees. Elwë and Andtuariel had just helped the wounded men they’d brought in to sit down and had begun cleansing their wounds. Annû was busy gathering wood for several small fire pits that a number of the Elves had quickly cleared. Soon, Rôg hoped, there would be hot water for tea and something to eat. Carandû, his brother said, had gone off to bring the reindeer down with the supplies of food and the extra blankets.

[Child of the 7th Age]

The Elven camp was gradually pulling into shape. Several firepits had been dug and wood collected to start a cheerful blaze. Pots of thick meat soup and kettles of herb tea had been suspended over the pits and were merrily bubbling as they cooked.

Most importantly, the healers bustled about the camp tending to the needs of the wounded. Marreth's arrow had only slightly grazed the flesh of his arm, yet he was grateful for Rôg's insistence that he have the healer apply her soothing herbs. In truth, the wound hurt more than he'd expected, While he kept his thoughts to himself, the strained look on his face attested to the stinging pain that now coursed through his upper arm making it difficult to concentrate or do anything more than sit and cradle one hand in another. The healer had assured him that he would be wholy recovered in a day or two, yet for the moment he could do very little that was useful. Added to this was the grim realization that, while all the injured were expected to heal and regain their strength, they had lost five men: two Elves and three of the Lossoth volunteers.

Once the Corsairs had retreated, Luindal had circled back to the Bay and gathered a large bucket of ice both for himself and the others who were wounded, since this seemed to provide some remedy for the stinging pain. Glancing around the Bay, Luindal noted that three of their casualties had been swept away by the swift currents when the men had slipped into the deep waters, but two of the bodies remained stretched out on the ice. Burial was not possible given the frozen tundra, and a large burning funeral pyre was apt to attract too much attention from the Corsairs. Luindal decided to ask his companions to gather up the bodies and strap them onto one of the reindeer's sledge so the Lossoth could be returned to his kin and the Elf given a suitable memorial.

Returning to the encampment with his bucket, Luindal distributed chunks of the ice and then beckoned Carrandu over to his side, thanking him for his parting shot at the Corsair Captain, "Perhaps I've misjudged you, for you've at least given Marreth something to think about . When we get back to camp, we'll summon the Elders and hold a hearing to try and figure out exactly what happened on the ice today. If you'd like, you are welcome to speak on your own behalf to clear your name fully. Meanwhile, we'll keep Alahseey tied up. Get someone to help Freyn watch her, as he will need his share of sleep. Do it yourself if you like, or find another. I have already stationed guards on the perimeter of camp to warn us against any Corsair visitors, but I believe that will not happen now. I had actually thought to leave tonight, but I see no way to do that until the men have rested. We will rise early in the morning and make our way to the ship. Let the men know what will happen."

With that Luindal leaned back on his pallet. feeling that he had gone a way to mend fences with Carrandu. Lying flat on his back, with his arm supported by a block of ice, the Elf nodded to Rôg to come over, telling him of his plans, and then added, "One more thing...I've had enough of this searching on land. We are finding nothing and I feel like a duck out of water. From now on we will be heading into the Bay itself. Give me two days to heal and I swear I will find those blasted Stones if we have to swim from one end of this half-frozen Bay to the other. "

[Regin Hardhammer]

It was late at night, but Marreth did not intend to camp on this frozen sheet of ice until the morning. The wind howled and a violent blizzard had whipped up which saw snow descending heavily around his men. He could not wait until he could return to his comfortable, warm quarters, away from this frigid wilderness. There was no time for burying the dead, and the wounded must be readied for transport. In addition to the abominable weather conditions, Marreth wanted to resume his search immediately for the Palantiri. The Captain wanted to insure that Luindal and his Elves did not get there ahead of the Corsairs.

“We’re leaving now mates,” he announced to his crew as the heavy wind wiped his brown cloak, “We best get back to the ship before we all freeze to death. It’s a long trek, I know. But it’s better than sitting and freezing here.” On the way back, Marreth reflected on the shot that had nearly missed piercing Luindal’s chest. Curse that infernal wind that had knocked the arrow into the side of the Elf’s arm. If only he could get one more chance to do the job, Marreth felt sure that he would succeed. He was still nursing a minor cut he had received from one of the Elves, but he was convinced that Luindal's wound was giving him more pain.

When the Corsairs returned to the ship after an all night trudge, Marreth felt relieved and slightly sullen, still mulling over his missed opportunity. Cold and exhausted, his arm aching slightly. he flopped down on his bed. It felt like a furnace in contrast to the freezing winds outside. Before drifting off to sleep, Marreth began to ponder where exactly he would look for the Palantiri next.

[Arry]

‘Brother, there is something very strange going on here.’

Annû nodded his head in agreement with Carandû, then raised his brows. ‘I’d like to agree with you, but perhaps you can fill me in a little more,’ he said. ‘I’m not quite sure what it is you’re getting at.’ Carandû smiled up at his brother and shook his own head. ‘Little brother, always by my side . . .’ He handed his bowl to Annû. ‘Speaking of “filling in”, I think I need a bit more in my belly. How about you?’

Carandû spoke no more of his concerns until the meal was done. Then he motioned for Annû to take a little walk with him. When they had gone a little ways from the rest of the group, Carandû broke the silence. ‘You know the Captain never really said why I was assigned to reindeer duty and was kept out of the main part of the action. There was some suspicion on his part . . . but about what I don’t know. And now it seems there is a shift in focus, someone else is under suspicion. And once again the reason is unclear to me.’ He glanced over to where the guard he’d set was watching over the Lossoth woman.

‘It’s no suspicion, brother,’ Annû replied, his gaze also falling on Alahseey. ‘Have you not heard? We almost lost Galhardir.’

‘His rope broke; he was pulled into the water. I know that much . . .’ Carandu said.

‘Not broke, Carandû . . . I’ve heard the rope was severed . . . with her axe,’ Annû whispered, nodding toward the prisoner. ‘She stood up with it in her hand. A lot of Elves and Lossoth saw her.’

Carandû’s brow furrowed as he tried to reconstruct that time just before the Corsairs attacked. His brother’s reconstruction of the events did not ring true for him. He was above and to the side of where the searchers were. He remembered checking Annû’s line from that distance – it was tied to a tree and ran out to his brother’s group without break. He’d looked quickly at the others’ ropes, too. Nothing had struck him as out of the ordinary. And the axe . . . that was it! Someone he’d glanced at had had an axe in her hand . . . a woman . . .

‘Listen, Annû . . . I don’t think it was her . . .’

The conversation came to a halt as the brothers heard someone’s steps behind them. It was one of the other Elves. He’d come to tell Carandû that the Captain’s request had been seen to. The crew and their Lossoth companions would be ready at dawn to return to the ship. ‘We’ve cleared one of the sleds for the wounded,’ he continued. ‘The other,’ he said looking away for a moment, ‘we will use to bring back the fallen.’

Annû and his brother returned to the camp beneath the trees. Carandû had promised Freyn he would take over watch of the prisoner while the Lossoth took some rest. Perhaps he could speak with Alahseey then . . . she must feel as confused as he had . . .

[piosenniel]

Rôg stayed with Luindal for a while, talking over the Captain’s change in plans for continuing the search. ‘I think you’re right in switching where we should be hunting for the palantiri,’ Rôg said. ‘We’ve had no luck on land . . . and if you remember, I had an idea about how we could go about finding and bringing them up. Of course, you’ll need to have full use of that arm of yours.’ Rôg chuckled and was about to make some joke when he heard a strange sound. The herbal tea that Freyn had given Luindal to ease the pain had taken effect it seemed and much to the skinchanger’s surprise, the Elf had fallen asleep and was snoring. He covered the Captain with a thick fur and left him to his dreams.

The wounded had been treated by the healers and all the company had filled their bellies with good food and hot tea. Rôg could see the guards that Luindal had set about the perimeter of the camp, their weapons in hand, eyes alert to any dangers. He felt secure as he marked their presence. And there was Carandû he noted, keeping watch over the prisoner. A thought niggled at the back of his mind as he saw the Elf talking to the Lossoth elder. Something he meant to remember before the Corsairs had attacked. He tried to review the sequence of events, but his thoughts were muzzy, his mind and body dead tired from the exertions of the day. He gave up trying to remember and headed off for some rest, himself.

~*~

Rôg was late in getting up the next day. The Elves were up and about, already getting everything and everyone ready to go back to the ship. Luindal was overseeing the move and looking as if he felt much better, though from time to time his hand strayed to his injured arm, rubbing it. The group tramped further down the beach to where the longboats could come in close to the shore. Then, the wounded were loaded into the boats first and taken back to the ship.

Last to go was Luindal who stayed to make sure everyone had gotten off the beach. As a measure of respect for the fallen he came back in the last boat, behind which trailed the smaller craft that bore the bodies of the dead.

[Orofaniel]

Feeling all better, Galhardir was exceedingly happy to be back at the ship. Last night had been a night without much sleep, and he was no left alone in his cabin to rest. Even though he wasn't completely healed, he felt much better. He didn't remember as much as he wanted from the events of yesterday, though. He did remember being lost on the ice, not able to find Luindal. He also remembered the horror he had felt. He shuddered. He didn't believe he had ever been that frightened in his whole life. But the rest of it was very faint to him. The reason he had been lost on the ice however, he remembered too well; his rope. The end that Hilde and Alahseey was supposed to hold was suddenly just in front of him. Speaking of that, it had been quite short, which meant that it had been cut of just before he noticed it himself. He wondered if it really had been an accident or if....Paranoia wasn't his way of dealing with things. He let it go, as he tried to recall the events that had happened later on. He remembered that he had cried for help. Yes, he remembered that pretty well. No answer had come though, which had made him even more insecure and frightened than he had been before. The next things that followed were....Oh, yes, the ice. The ice had suddenly started to move. The ice had all of a sudden been torn apart underneath his feet....Thinking about this, he realised that everything after that was in fact, missing. A big black hole in his memory. How could he fill it? He wanted to remember. He closed his eyes again as he lay in his bed. Focusing on the lost memories he once again managed to pull threads from the previous events. He had in fact managed to escape from that particularly trap; it had been another one who had almost killed him.

Although these were only faint thoughts, he knew that this was in fact what had happened. Even thought his mind didn't fully remember it, his body did. But how had that hole he'd jumped into gotten there? He couldn't recall seeing any such holes in the ice from earlier adventures. Such holes just didn't exist. It was different if the ice had done it all by itself, meaning that the water beneath it had been moving, causing the ice to stir. This was different. Such a hole he had jumped into couldn't have been caused by the water beneath it. It just couldn't. How could this be?

The knocking on the door surprised him, as he had gotten a strict message of Luindal to stay in his bed, preferably, undisturbed. But as he saw his nephew, Rodhal running in, he was delighted to see him. "Uncle!" He gasped as he approached the bed. "My dear Rodhal," Galhardir said feeling his heart beat faster. "I was wondering when you were going to pay your old uncle a visit..." he then said, smiling at the young boy. The boy giggled, as he found a chair, seating himself just next to Galhardir's bed. "Luindal told me that you needed some rest, so I told him I’d just visit you later on...But then I saw you through the cabin window, and you were awake...I just thought I'd see how you were feeling, that’s all," Rodhal then said, looking a bit worried about his uncle health. "Oh, how thoughtful of you. Luindall was right, I did need some rest, but I've rested long enough now. I could use some company too you know," Galhardir said as he pulled the quilt over himself. “It’s is in fact, the best medicine, or at least that’s what they say…”

“So, how are you then uncle?” Rodhal asked innocently.

"I still have a bit of a fever, and a few scratches from the falls I've experienced over the last days," Galhardir said, looking at Rodhal again. "Yes, they did tell me," he muttered, pointing at Galhardir's face. He hadn't noticed it himself, but he had gotten himself a big scratch on his left cheek along with some dry blood. "Are you sure you're alright, uncle?" Rodhal then said full of sympathy. "Yes, I'm sure. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine..." Galhardir said, leaning over to give Rodhal a hug.

"Alright then, uncle. I'll go so you can rest some more. Annû told me that I shouldn't stay too long at a time. I could rather come visit you later on. Is that alright?" He asked as he got up from the chair. "Of course Rodhal!" Galhardir said, smiling as widely as he could. He could feel the pain from the scratch however, preventing him of making his smile look convincing.

Just when Rodhal was about to open the door and leave, Galhardir asked him if he could ask Annû and Carandû to pay him a visit. "If they'd be so kind.. I would be very grateful."

[Niluial]

Elwë was happy back in his cabin. He now enjoyed and appreciated the warmth of his room and the soft bed he slept on much more than before. He did not at all enjoy camping out in the ice cold snow, on the hard, numbing ground. He also felt safer on the ship, not so vulnerable. The knot and anxiety that once sat in his stomach for long was almost gone. Of course he did still feel slightly uneasy. They are out there, we saw what they did today. I may be worried about myself, but Andtuariel… she is more vulnerable. I love here, I really do. Elwë stood up suddenly, curious as to where Andtuariel had actually gone to.

He walked down the long corridor, observant of many things he had never noticed before; a crack on the walls, a few painting of a rough sea and a few others and also ornaments in glass cabinets. He looked ahead and Andtuariel stood talking to a Lossoth, smiling ever so sweetly. Elwë gestured for Andtuariel to come to him. He watched her walk towards him. Her sunflower yellow dress danced about her legs as she walked and her hair was slightly messy, though it still looked perfect.

“I wonder what did happen to Galhardir yesterday, it is all very dodgy if you asked me.” Andtuariel said to Elwë. He watched her eyes, they were filled with curiosity and mischief-ness.

“It would be better for us to stay out of it. I would like to know too. I heard Annu talking about it too. I heard that someone cut the ropes and it wasn’t just an accident!”

“Very odd. I wonder who it is.”

[Arry]

Annû was in the galley fixing himself a cup of hot tea when Rodhal wandered in. The boy’s face lit up when he saw the Elf, and he called out Annû’s name. ‘Well, look who’s here,’ said Annû, waving the boy closer. The Elf drew him close to his side with an arm about his shoulders, ruffling Rodhal’s hair as he asked the boy did he want a cup of tea, also. Rodhal nodded his head ‘yes’, asking if there were any honey left to sweeten it. Annû laughed, and brought out the big pot of honey in the cupboard. ‘You’ve as big a sweet-tooth as my brother!’ Rodhal watched with wide eyes as the Elf scooped up a heaping teaspoon of honey and stirred it into the tea.

‘Hey! Did I hear someone saying something bad about me?’ Carandû grumbled coming in through the entryway. He had just finished changing his clothes and was in the process of pulling a thick tunic over his head. Annû held out a mug of steaming tea to his brother, whose nose wrinkled in distaste as he took a sip. ‘Where’s the honey? You know I like two spoonsful!’ He helped himself to more sweetener, frowning as both Rodhal and Annû laughed. The joke explained, Carandû laughed, too, shaking his head at his brother.

‘Are you two busy right now?’ Rodhal asked, blowing on his tea to cool it.

‘Well, no, actually. Did you have something in mind?’ Annû said, pouring himself a little more tea.

‘My uncle would like to see you two. He told me so.’ Rodhal looked hopefully at the two Elves. ‘He’s still awake. I just saw him not too long ago.’

‘Pour another mug of tea, Annû,’ Carandû said, rustling through one of the cupboards. ‘We’ll bring Galhardir a cup and share some of these.’ Carandû pulled out a plate of nutbread slices from the back of the cupboard.

The three walked slowly back to Galhardir’s room, taking care not to spill the mugs of tea. Rodhal opened the door when they got there and peeked his head in. ‘Uncle,’ he said, a smile on his face, ‘look who’s come with me!’

[Orofaniel]

The two elves followed little Rodhal into the cabin. Galhardir looked at them, smiling warmly. "Thank you so much for coming," he said quietly. "We were hoping to visit you as soon as possible," Annû said holding his mug high in the air. "We've brought tea," Carandû said and smiled; “And nutbread. We thought you might be thirsty and hungry..” he added immediately. "Oh, how very kind of you," Galhardir said, sitting up in his bed. The elves found two chairs and seated as well.

Galhardir then thanked his nephew for bringing the two elves to him. "I'm going to climb the look out post again if I'm allowed," Rodhal then said. "I am getting much better," he then continued seeming a bit proud over his achievement. "I see. Well, hurry up then, and be careful," Galhardir said and waved. “When I’m fully recovered I’ll come and watch you,” he then muttered after him.

Now the three of them were alone and free to talk. Annû started to pour some tea into Galhardir cup. Holding the warm cup of tea, he too felt warm. "How are you then?" Annû said, sipping his own tea. ”Feeling much better, thanks. I still have a bit of a fever, but I expect it to be over very soon," Galhardir said. Carandû nodded.

"After what I've heard you stayed for quite some time in that icy water," he said, looking a bit worried. "Indeed, too long, but at least I'm alive," Galhardir joked. It was good to hear Carandû's merry laughter again.

"The reason why I wanted Rodhal to bring you here is that I wanted to thank you. Both of you," Galhardir then said humbly. "I don't remember much from the battle, as I fainted a couple of times. But I do know that one of you saved me from one of the Corsairs, who would have killed me if you hadn't been there. I was too weak to fight him on my own," Galhardir said with gratitude, because that was what he felt - gratitude.

The two brothers looked at each other. Annû blused a little, as he didn't know what to say. "It's what companions and friends do," Carandû said eventually. "We help each other when we're in danger," Annû added. "Well, thank you," Galhardir then said again, taking a sip from his tea, which had almost gotten cold within these few minutes.

"Who pulled me up from the water?" Galhardir then asked. The two brothers shook their heads. "Hm...I can't say, really..." Annû said.

There was some silence. None of them spoke much, just drank their tea and ate their nut bread. Galhardir ate and drank eagerly as he was quite hungry. It seemed like a merry atmosphere, but at the same time it was affected by something that Galhardir couldn't put words on.

"Do you know how you got lost on the Ice, Galhardir?" Annû then asked. Galhardir did remember some of it. In fact he had cleared almost everything. "Yes, I do remember that the rope had suddenly been cut. I don't know if it was by accident...or.." he didn't complete his sentence before Carandû continued;" We don't think it was by accident," Carandû as did, his eyebrows closing up, making his face look grave and morbid.

"What?" Galhardir asked. He was confused; of course the thought had hit him, but he never imagined it to actually be the truth. "We know that it was cut by a...spy," Annû said. "A spy?" Galhardir exclaimed.

"Please do explain, because I don't understand," Galhardir said, confused and feeling utterly lost. "Luindal hasn't been here, has he?" Annû then asked. "No, not yet. I think he still thinks I'm asleep. He wanted me to rest for as long as I could," Galhardir then explained.

"Well," Carandû started. "There happened something odd," Carandû then said. "I still don't believe it's true," he added. "Luindal found shreads from the rope you had around your waist on Alahseey's axe blade," Annû told Galhardir. Galhardir gasphed, like he was out of air. Holding his hands over his mouth he was horrified by the ill news.

"Say it isn’t so!" he exclaimed yet again. He almost drop his cup as horrified as he was. "I heard it was Hilde who suspected Alahseey to be some sort of spy...I think she reported it to Luindal and took the matters into his own hands, checking Alahseey's axe," Annû continued. Galhardir did believe it. He couldn't. It had been, after all, Alahseey's and Hilde's job to keep the ropes safe on the bay. How could she have done it?

"I don't believe it was her," Carandû then said. "There was something....I can't express it, but I feel there is something here. It's not right..." he then said. His voice told them that he felt a bit frustrated over himself as he didn't manage to fully express himself the way he wanted too. "I can't believe it either.." Galhardir muttered. He was still in shock.

“I think there will be some sort of a hearing,” Carandû said. “Luindal mentioned it, and said I could come…I think everyone who wants to come may do so,” Carandû said.

“Maybe you should go,” Annû suggested. “I mean, since it was your rope that was cut. Maybe you’ll manage to remember something that can clear this up. It may not be Alahseey after all…we don’t know yet.”

Galhardir thought about this. Maybe he had seen something on the ice, but didn’t remember it after his fall. How could he make himself remember it if this really was the case?

[Lalwendë]

Tarn was back at his stone hut and the fire was blazing. His damp outer clothes hung about the room, giving off steam as they dried, and a pot of stew was bubbling, ready to be served. Thynne took two wooden bowls and ladled out a serving for Tarn, who took it silently without any thanks. Beads of feverish sweat broke out on the man’s forehead. He stared into the flames as he ate, turning over the events of the previous day in his mind.

The Corsair man he had rescued had been dragged on a sled all the way back to his ship; he lived, but Tarn wanted to see if he had recovered yet. He was keen to get to the Corsair ship and learn the news but he had just woken from a much needed sleep after the hike back and he needed to eat first. Luck had been on his side after the battle, as Thynne had found not only a sled, but someone’s dropped water bottle and a spare fur. It turned out the lad had stayed with the archers and then they had directed him to search for anything of use which the elves had dropped or left behind; they could see he was not big enough for battle but that they would need supplies after the fighting was through. The water and the warmth of the extra fur had sustained Tarn during the hike home, where he could finally stop and tend to his wound.

The cut was not long, but it was deep, running laterally across his left bicep. He knew that untended, the wound could fester and sap his strength. As soon as he had got back to the hut he had boiled water while Thynne curled up in a corner and slept soundly, tired and overwrought from the battle and the march home. Before Tarn could sleep he had needed to tend to his injury. He had bathed the wound and then took some sphagnum moss and comfrey leaves and packed them around the gash in his skin, before binding it with a strip of clean woollen cloth.

He had crept into bed as a red dawn broke across the eastern sky and fallen into a deep sleep, untroubled by dreams. Now, as he ate, he remembered those he had injured and wondered if they too were sitting by warm fires or if they had succumbed to their injuries. There was no question about the elf he had felled with his harpoon. He had seen the life drain from his eyes and the blood spill from his body. He shivered a little as he thought of it, but then Thynne distracted him from his musings by opening the door and looking outside.

A cold wind blew in, making the flames in the fire shudder and Tarn winced at the icy draught as he turned his head to see what the day outside was like. Whatever the weather, and despite how he felt, he knew he could not and would not be staying in the hut today.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth awoke by mid-morning in better spirits than he had been before, considerably refreshed from a good night’s sleep. Next time they were forced to camp away from the ship, he vowed to bring tents. The biting frigid winds had assaulted the crew all the way back to the ship. The storm had evidently died out overnight, or had not stretched this far south: the day looked to be clear and calm. The hours spun by quickly as Marreth and those of his crew who were healthy put in a full day's work tending to the ship and its rigging. By late afternoon, all the Elves and their band had returned to their ship. As evening approached, Marreth resolved to take a walk by himself out on deck so he could contemplate what he might try next.

His sabotage had worked, but the Elves had nevertheless managed to organize themselves and put up a good fight. The Corsairs did not score a decisive victory against their adversaries, but then again they had not lost mightily either. As Marreth considered what to do next, he saw three flashes of light coming from a patch of bushes on the nearby shore. He looked out and saw a red lantern, and crouched beside it a hooded figure. Of course, thought Marreth, our Lossoth friend may have some ideas what we should do next.

Hastily leaving the ship, he approached the agreed upon meeting place. Marreth trailed the Lossoth into a secluded clearing, a few feet away from the edge of the Bay; they were wholly surrounded by bushes.

Before Marreth could ask the Snowman about the Elves’ plans, the hooded figure spoke in a shaky voice, “The Elves know there is a Corsair spy. Rumors are flying around the Elven ship. I arranged a little accident on shore for one of their party, and made it look as if Alahseey was the one who did it. Still I am not comfortable. Too many people are asking questions. One minute they may blame Alahseey, and the next start looking for another to blame. I fear they will catch me and put me in chains. Yet I do not waver in my mission; I will continue to relay information to you as best I can. Even if I am found out, I can still be of great use to your cause. I know the Bay like the back of my hand, and can show you likely spots for your treasure hunting. I only ask that you send some men onto the nearby shore to keep an eye on the Elven ship. They can alert you if something happens to me and I am in need of aid or rescue.”

The Captain replied, “I will grant you this aid; it is no fault of your own that our plans to exterminate the Elves have failed. But I send you fair warning Lossoth that this is not some kind of trap laid by the Elves who have sent you here. If you plan to deceive us, I will bring down vengeance upon your head stronger than a raging blizzard. Very well then, you may go.” Marreth did not completely trust this stranger, but if the Lossoth was discovered, he would have no way of knowing the plans of the Elves. Worse yet, the spy might disclose something to them of his own plans and strategies. Better that the Lossoth should be with him, where he could monitor things. He concluded it was best to lend aid to this stranger but do so cautiously. Marreth would not have his men lured into an ambush.

"Return now to the Spirit," the Corsair captain continued, "and here is a coin or two for your pains. But see that you carry yourself carefully, and do not say a word to anyone of my plans..."

Mareth dropped two gold coins in the spy's hand and was about to turn away, when he glanced back and asked one more question. "The Elven ship must be low on supplies. Except for the special things they needed for the trek north, I've not seen them bring in large barrels with ale or herring or other needed foodstuffs."

"That is right," the Snowman nodded. "Not since the first day have they restocked their larders. I heard Luindal say that he has sent several large orders to Igal, a local merchant and procurer of goods, and that many items and workmen will be coming onto the ship in the next few days while they rest up and make their future plans."

Marreth nodded but said nothing more, although his mind was spinning very fast. He quickly returned to his ship, and summoned Jynne and Diera to be brought to him, since Jarlyn was resting as he had ordered. When the two arrived, he began “I must reveal to the two of you something. Since the arrival of the Elves, I have had a Lossoth spy on board the Elven ship to relay their plans to me. That is how we were always one step ahead of them. But now I have reason to believe that this spy, a valuable information source to me, may fall in jeopardy. At the very least, the Elves are suspicious of us so it will be harder to get information."

"Therefore, I am asking you to go and hide on the shore behind the rocks and the snow bluffs in one of the secluded groves. Take some trusted helpers with you and see if you can pick up any news. I understand that they will be having an inquiry tomorrow morning out on deck. One of the Elders is to be tried, although she has nothing to do with us. Possibly, some of our Lossoth friends may even care to pose as local traders bearing goods from Igal and offering to take these provisions onto the ship and store them away. That way they can get up close. You can't get away with showing your faces, but our Lossoth allies can probably do so."

Then he told them who the spy was and added, "Alert me if you see that the Elves have captured this Snowman or anything unusual is taking place. You are to leave immediately and take the seal skin tent with you. If the snow flares up like it did last night you will need it.” Marreth was exceedingly glad that he did not have to go camping outdoors again. He turned back to his cabin wondering how Jynne would react to the order that he again go camp out in the snow.

[Imladris]

So that was what Marreth had been up to in his secrecy: talking to his little spy on the elven ship. The problem, of course, was the fact that he had to babysit the fellow to make sure he didn't get caught. Well, he wasn't much of a spy, was he, if he was caught so easily.

"You are to leave immediately and take the seal skin tent with you. If the snow flares up like it did last night you will need it," Marreth was saying.

Jynne scowled. Not only did he have to babysit some traitor, but he had to to do it in the cold wet snow. If he became sick, all could be spoiled...

With a curt nod, Jynne turned on his heal and slipped into his own quarters. Taking a small oaken chest from underneath the cot, he opened it. Inside, tiny vials clattered brightly against each other as he sifted through them. Finally, he found what he was looking for: a concoction that would fend sickness from his flesh. Holding the green vial aloft, Jynne peered into the transclucent glass. The vial was only half full -- he would have to use it sparingly. Plucking the cork from the vial, he swallowed three times, and then replaced the vial with the others.

As he slipped from his room, clinging to the splotchy shadows, he thought about what Marreth had said. He had ordered them to bring along some trusted men. Jynne smiled thinly. Trusted men...did Marreth not know that men could not be trusted?

[Child of the 7th Age]

Alahseey paced nervously from one end of the cabin to the other before stopping to press her face against the porthole. From her vantage on the ship, she had only a limited view of the beach and surrounding waters. But she could see that the long night had given way to morning. In contrast to her own gloominess, the new day had dawned bright and clear. The Spirit was now moored in shallow waters in a portion of the Bay adjacent to the largest Lossoth settlement. Early this morning, Luindal had moved the ship and dropped anchor only a stone's throw from the shore.

Alahseey also observed a number of small boats rapidly approaching the Elven ship. Most carried Lossoth Elders, men and women she intimately knew who had been invited to attend the inquiry and hearing. Other long boats had drawn up alongside the Spirit bearing boxes of foodstuffs and small barrels that Igal's trading agents had agreed to bring on board to replenish the Elves' empty storage bins. Determined to head north as quickly as he could, Luindal had purposely carried a light load, and many provisions had been depleted during their weeklong voyage from the Havens as well as the subsequent days at the Ice Bay.

Despite her confinement, the Elder was in relatively good shape. The trek south had been bearable largely because of Freyn who made sure that she received ample food and water, and was not pushed beyond her physical means. Luindal's treatment of her had been firm but fair. The Captain had ordered her bonds untied as soon as she boarded the Spirit. She had been escorted to a small, comfortably furnished room with a single guard set outside the door. Food and drink were provided in ample measure along with changes of clothing. But the door was bolted shut and no one was admitted inside other than to drop off and collect her food dishes. The guards had not been allowed to speak with her.

Alahseey heard footsteps in the hallway, then watched as the bolt was drawn back. Two members of the crew stepped into the room: one a Lossoth, the other an Elf. Both were heavily armed. "You're to come with us, Elder Alahseey," the Lossoth directed. "If you come freely, we will not bind your arms or legs." She inclined her head in agreement, and stepped forward to walk beside them. The group continued down the corridor and mounted the ladder to the main deck where a large crowd had already gathered. On one side stood Luindal and his crew, including the Lossoth volunteers. On the other were the Elders and several trading agents employed by Igal who had been bringing provisions on board the ship since early morning.

Luindal stepped forward to start the meeting, addressing everyone in the common tongue. "We are here for two reasons. First, Hilde Halvardsdatter has brought formal accusation against Elder Alahseey, daughter of Ingrid the reindeer herder. Hilde charges Alahseey with slicing Galhardir's safety rope in two by using her own axe. After this happened, Galhardir plunged through the ice in rather suspicious circumstances and nearly lost his life in the swift currents of the Bay. Traces of shredded rope were later found on the Elder's axe, which she wore on a belt at her side."

Luindal sighed and shook his head, "I want this matter fairly and thoroughly investigated to see if Alahseey is guilty. But that is not all. Since our arrival at the Bay, it's clear someone on board this ship has been passing information on to the Corsairs. First, there was a mysterious landslide that conveniently covered up the door of the cavern while leaving everything else untouched. Surely, this was no accident. Outside our own group, only a few of the Elders even knew that we planned to search the caves that day. Secondly, I saw the Corsairs trudge northward in the early morning long before we ever left the ship and even before I told the rest of you where we were going. Either Marreth has the ability to read minds, which I think unlikely, or he has planted a spy in our midst. "

"While we can not be certain, the person who cut the rope is probably the informer. And all those old fishing holes that caved in are also suspicious From the beginning, I expected to have trouble with the Corsairs. But it concerns me far more to learn that we have a turntail in our own midst."

"I am asking for your help. If you have heard anything that suggests Alahseey's guilt or innocence, if you have any idea why the ice gave way, if you saw anyone acting in a suspicious mannner, or know why the Corsairs have so much knowledge of what we're doing, please come forward and speak up. Before Alahseey can be declared guilty, the Law of the Lossoth requires that at least two witnesses verify Hilde's claim as to the cutting of the rope or her part in the spying. I personally do not intend to leave here until we come to the bottom of this thing."

With that, Luindal stepped back and glanced around waiting for someone to speak....

[Rinfanawen]

"I am asking you to go and hide on the shore behind the rocks and the snow bluffs in one of the secluded groves."

Diera's heart jumped in glee at Marreth's words. Spying on the Elves again, are we? she thought. The rest of her captain's orders seemed like music to her ears, even if they were to camp on land again. It will be worth it all in the end, she constantly told herself. She soon returned to her cabin beneath deck.

She opened the door of her room quickly, smiling as she stepped inside. Diera stood over her bed, thinking of what she would need to bring with her. "You are to leave immediately," Marreth had said. Diera stared sideways in thought. No, there will be no time for packing. She picked up merely her long, leather cloak and hat. Both had somehow managed to dry in the elapsed time after the battle. Her small knife remained sheathed nicely within her boot. Her sword she left on her bed. Swords are not needed for spying, She thought, trying to comfort herself. She looked back at the sword upon exiting her cabin, almost going back to take the weapon. She shook her head. Turning away once more, she shut the door of her cabin and walked to the deck.

Doyal and another trusted shipmate of hers were already waiting on deck. Diera gestured a ‘hello’ as she approached. Soon after, Jynne appeared from below deck, looking rather unsteady in his walk. Diera looked at him curiously. Her thoughts returned to a few nights ago when Marreth spoke to her about Jynne. Her captain himself had warned her of Jynne’s suspicious deeds, and now she was beginning to see them herself. Diera stared at Jynne. A thousand questionable comments went through her head to say to him, but she remained silent. A time for inquiring would come later. Their small group departed soon after.

The group quickly rowed to shore. Quickly they rowed, but quietly as to not draw attention to themselves. Diera stepped onto the earthy soil of the land with much hesitation. Ever since that cold night on the ice, she could not keep from thinking of her parents. She sighed. Don’t go there, she thought as she stepped off the boat. The rest of her crew was already on shore. She looked up at them with soft eyes.

“Let’s go,” she said. Her voice quivered and squeaked as she spoke, but she quickly cleared her throat and repeated the phrase in a more commanding tone.

The land was deathly quiet, apart from their own light footsteps. They were the only Corsairs to be found, and no Elf had been seen leaving the ship. The air was cold. It blew through what thin clothes they wore until it froze even the tiny hairs on their arms. Diera could sense the frost was coming. She could smell it in the air, as if snow had already touched the ground.

Their slow, cautious pace was quickened as they came nearer to the location of the Elven ship. Diera bent low behind a few patches of shrubs in the secluded area Marreth had pointed out. The Elven ship could clearly be seen, but nothing unusual was taking place at the moment. A light wind began to blow. Diera held her wide-brimmed, brown hat over her head as she peered out towards the deck of the hideously graceful ship. Soon a few Elves appeared in her view, followed a rather large crowd of Elves.

Diera closely watched the interesting scene that was taking place on the ship. The attention of every Elf and pro-Elf Lossoth was fixed upon a certain Elf in the middle, named Luindal, who seemed to be of a high order. Diera watched as the Elf spoke words she could not hear. Luindal then singled out an Elf of whom she did not know. Luindal spoke more words to the crowd, acknowledging the other Elf through the whole speech. Diera sighed. For the first time, she wished she had the vision of Elven eyes so she could at least try to make out what was being said. She soon let the absurd thought flee from her mind as she waited to see what would happen next.

[Arry]

Carandû had not meant to be late to the hearing. It was his turn for galley duty, though, and the pots and pans and dishes needed to be cleaned up. Lunch would follow soon after the meeting was done and clean bowl and spoons would be needed for the soup the cook had simmering. With a final swipe of the dish towel, he nested the last bowl on the cupboard. Tying his hair back a little more neatly, the Elf hurried down the passageway and up the stairs to the meeting place.

The crowd was large already. Carandû shoulder his way to where he could see Annû standing. ‘Your pardon,’ he murmured many times as he jostled his way through the throng, once stepping inadvertently on a Lossoth foot. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked in a hushed voice slipping in next to his brother.

‘The Captain’s just spoken of what Alahseey has been accused of,’ Annû replied. ‘And brought up, too, that he thinks there’s a spy in our midst.’

Carandû frowned at what he heard as Annû explained all that Luindal had said. ‘Is that why he set me to reindeer duty, do you think? Did someone step foreword and accuse me?’ Annû shook his head, saying the particulars of the part about the spy had not been addressed.

‘Who was it who accused the Elder?’ Carandû’s gaze swiveled about the room looking at those who stood near the front, wondering if the same person had fingered him.

Annû raised his arm and pointed to where Hilde stood. ‘Her!’

Carandû’s mind raced back to the evening he had found the Captain’s door open and gone in to shut off the lamp. It was after that that Luindal had assigned him to reindeer duty and would not let him join in the search parties that had gone out onto the ice. He looked to where Annû had pointed, his eyes going wide, as he remembered it was she, Hilde, who had seen him exiting the room. She was in profile, standing a little ways away from Luindal, and this view of her sparked another memory of that day Galhardir had almost drowned. ‘Brother, I must make my way to the front where the Lossoth stands accused. They have the wrong one!’

The brothers made their way to the front amidst the grumblings of those pushed aside for their passage. Luindal saw the two Elves and bade them step forward, asking if they had anything to say. Annû spoke a few words in his brother’s ear, then pushed him forward.

‘That day that the lines were cut, Captain,’ Carandû began, his gaze shifting from a close study of Hilde’s face back to Luindal. ‘I wasn’t supposed to be near the operation. I’d been assigned to see to the reindeer. But my brother was out on the ice and I was not one to be parted from him should danger arise. And I was worried that it might, given our previous mishaps in the cave search. Needless to say, I left my charges in the care of a Lossoth and climbed to a vantage point where I could watch what was going on. I saw my brother and the others already on the ice when I arrived at my vantage point, and I traced their lines back to the tree where they were secured, wanting to make sure all had been done properly. My eyes followed my brother’s group and periodically I would sweep back to see the ropes that kept them safe. Just before Galhardir went in I saw a Lossoth with an axe in hand standing by his party's rope. I swept out again to see my brother slipping along, when the cry went up that a rope had broken and one of the searchers had slipped into the water. Then the Corsairs attacked, of course, and the chaos of battle ensued.’

At the word ‘Lossoth’, the crowd had begun to mutter and look hard at Alahseey.

‘So,’ began Luindal, ‘it was Alahseey you saw with the axe definitely in her hand . . .’

‘No,’ said Carandû, firmly, in a loud voice, as to be heard above the swell of harsh talk. Luindal looked at him expectantly. ‘The Elder was standing some ways away from where the rope was severed, or so I have pieced together from the rumours I sorted through of where the cut was made.’ Annû had made his way round to where Hilde stood and now grasped the woman firmly by the arm. ‘It was her I saw, standing near the rope, axe gripped in her hand,’ Carandû continued. ‘Hilde, the Captain’s confidant, the one who had knowledge of all the plans, and free run of the ship.’ He took a step closer to Hilde who drew back against Annû.

Annû pushed her forward, his grip still hard on her. ‘And tell them how you saw my brother leaving the Captain’s cabin after he’d gone in to turn off a lamp left burning on the desk. Tell how you accused him of being the spy.’ ‘Tell them!’ he commanded in a wrathful voice, his tall frame looming over her.

[Orofaniel]

Galhardir gazed.

Could it really have been Hilde who had done it and nearly killed him?

"Please, will you let me speak?" Galhardir then said out loud and got up. Luindal ordered the Lossoth and the elves to be quiet. "Please do," he said and looked at Hilde. Annû tried to be quiet, but Galhardir noticed his eyes glanced over at Hilde constantly.

"My memory from that horrible day is still a bit unclear, but I do think my thoughts and those memories I have are important for you to hear," he started. "I remember handing over the end of my rope to Alahseey and Hilde, so I think it’s most certain one of them cut it too..." Some of the elves started to mutter, looking back and forth at Hilde and Alahseey as they were trying to vision the event. "When I noticed I had lost Luindal on the ice and I was surrounded by thick fog I panicked. I remember pulling my rope slightly, to see if it could lead me back to the bay. As you all know, the very reason we're here is because it was cut off. Alahseey has been chraged for this terribl action, although I do not think she is the guilty one...." Voices of great confusion was to be heard. Galhardir didn't expect anything else either as there was now several people charging Hilde instead of Alahseey for the terrible deed. "The rope had been cut only a short time before I got lost, or so I think. To be able to cut my rope one had to use an axe..."

"Get to the point," one of the elves muttered.

"What better way of hiding your own traces by pointing the suspicion to someone else is there?" Galhardir then asked the crowd. "I've bee asking myself this question since the very moment I heard that Alahseey had been charged for this deed. Please do think about it...A spy would do something as horrible as that, but only a spy. I tell you, Hilde is that spy. Not Alahseey."

As he had finished, great anger and accusations came from Hilde. Annû smiled mischievously because he knew Hilde would have to pay for what she had done. It was like a victory. Galhardir sat down again, waiting for Luindal or some of the Elders to say something regarding Galhardir's accusations and thoughts. "Oh, one last thing. If it hadn't been for you," he said, looking at Rôg and some of the elves, "I wouldn't have been here today," Galhardir continued, pausing. He sighed. "The person who has betrayed us should be punished for this and not walk away thinking she can fool us by leading another innocent person into her own miserable level."

[piosenniel]

‘If only I’d not gone back to my pack to get those foot warmers!’ Rôg shook his head, remembering how his feet had been cold and his pack, just a short distance away, held some furl-lined socks that Bear had given him. The ropes had been fine when he’d left; he’d checked their knots and seen that the three Lossoth he was standing watch with were all in place, watching the searchers inch out onto the ice. He’d heard the cries for help just as he returned to where the ropes were anchored. His immediate thoughts had been to go quickly to the source of the cries, as he saw a multitude of hands catch hold of the cut rope. Thoughts of how he best might help, though, had crowded out a glimpse he’d gotten just as he neared the anchoring rocks, before the cries went up.

One of the three Lossoth safeguarding the anchor points had just stooped down slightly and shoved an axe a little ways away on the ground. He’d hurried on as he saw hands grip the escaping lifeline. But his next images were of Alaahseey and Freyn running as he passed them to grab onto the rope. He gasped, audibly, at what this meant. The person who’d put down the axe must surely have been Hilde! He’d not seen her use it, but . . .

His attention was caught by the murmurings of the crowd in front of him. And the loud voices of Carandû and Annû. They, too, were accusing Hilde of the deed. Luindal had called for everyone to be quiet and be calm. Rôg heard him ask Carandû had he seen her use the axe, but the Elf could not say he had, his attention diverted by the cries for help and then the Corsair onslaught.

Rôg stood up on a crate at the ship’s railing and wave his arms wildly to draw the Captain’s attention. ‘Now, I didn’t see her swing the axe and make the cut, either,’ he said. A smug look crept onto Hilde’s face at this admission, and quickly fled as he went on. ‘I have to admit I was away for several moments. But I did see who laid the axe down as the rope snaked into the waters of the Bay.’ Rôg looked consideringly at Alaahsey. ‘The Elder and Freyn were further up the lifeline when I saw them trying to grasp it and stop its movement. The only other Lossoth there that I passed on my way to help was the one whose hand I saw cast the axe a little ways away from her.’ He nodded toward Hilde with his chin. ‘It was her, Hilde, whose hand held the axe just after the severing blows were struck.’

[Kitanna]

Nilak had slept later than he meant too. He had to get back to Corsair ship and speak with Sernir. See what jobs he had in store for him today. The failure on the ice had left Sernir angry and irritable, but this was really no different from the Corsair in a normal mood.

Nilak trudged along, moving slowly today. He was in no real hurry, though he should have been. As he walked along he overheard two Lossoth men talking about Igal. Nilak slowed down when he heard that Igal was bringing supplies to the Elven ships. The words "he needs some help with the loading" floated into Nilak's ears. He dropped his coin pouch into the snow, pretending he had dropped it on accident. He got down on his knees and listened to the Lossoth men talking more about Igal and his shipment to the Elves.

This was it. This could be what Marreth and the Corsairs needed to get ahead. Nilak could go offer help to Igal. He could gain the advantage for the Corsairs. He smiled to himself and grabbed his coin pouch. This was perfect.

Now Nilak walked faster to the ship. When it was in sight he realized this would be dangerous. He couldn't go alone. But who could he possibly bring with him? Who did he trust? There was no one he truly trusted, but there was Tarn. Tarn had gone into the caves with him and he didn't try to stab Nilak in the back. Nilak sorted through his other choices. No one. It looked like he would have to try and enlist Tarn's help.

On the ship Nilak searched out Tarn. He was not too hard to find. "Tarn." The larger Lossoth man looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I have a proposition for you."

Tarn listened to all Nilak had to say. He spoke rarely, but nodded from time to time. After Nilak explained his plan Tarn agreed. They would go to Igal as soon as possible.

[Lalwendë]

Tarn had been sitting idly on the deck of the Corsair ship when Nilak came towards him in a rush. His news had been interesting, and the plan was well thought out. Tarn didn’t have any questions to ask, and found himself easily agreeing to the man’s scheme. He had gained a sense of respect for Nilak since the episode in the caves; the man had shown courage and had proved to be a trustworthy ally. He was quite content to go along with Nilak’s idea, and standing up, whistled for Thynne, who had been watching the sailors scaling the rigging.

*

As they drew nigh to the Elven ship, Tarn could see that some of the loading had already begun. Men were bringing supplies across the water in small boats, but were clearly struggling; it appeared that Igal had failed to employ enough men to get the job done quickly. Nilak said what Tarn was thinking, that this would make their mission easier.

Pulling a woollen scarf and a hood from the inside pocket of his overcoat, Tarn covered up his head and the lower part of his face; this would help shield his identity, something which Tarn suspected might be necessary. He could do little to hide his coat, which was distinctive in an area where most wore furs, but he stooped a little to make himself a bit more unobtrusive. Large crates were sitting on the shoreline, unattended, and Tarn loaded an empty boat with the cases until it was full, when Nilak pushed the craft out into the water.

The ship was close to shore and they soon reached it. Nilak went up the ladder first, and as nobody challenged him, he motioned to Tarn and Thynne, who passed up the crates before scaling the ladder themselves. At one end of the ship, there was a large crowd gathered, what appeared to be the whole crew, along with many Lossoth faces. Tarn’s deep eyes squinted as he tried to make out who was there. It appeared to be a Lossoth woman who was in some kind of trouble, and he burned with curiosity to know what she had done, but had to turn away in case he was noticed.

Those onboard were too interested in the trial to notice the newcomers, but a stocky, beetle-browed man soon saw them and hastily came across the deck towards them.
“Igal,” said Tarn. “I see you have found yourself a deal here with the elves? Profitable no doubt?”

The man stood with his arms folded, a sour expression on his face. “And why would you want to know? Think someone’s outdoing you here do you? A shipwrecker and a profiteer?” His voice raised slightly and Tarn and Nilak moved to stand on either side of him, menacingly.

“And what might you be then, Igal?” hissed Tarn. “Goods sold at no doubt high prices, and I see your pitiful wages have failed to find you enough men for the job.”

“What about it? I know you two won’t be here for the wages. Come to steal my labourers, have you?”

“Lower myself to that?” spat Tarn, his face full of derision. Turning aside with a sneer, he took a handful of the corn in one of the sacks which had been opened, and examined it, sniffing the grains carefully as they ran through his long fingers. It had a tainted smell and he knew that Igal would have mixed bad, cheap corn with the good quality produce which the elves were paying a premium for. Igal blanched. He knew that Tarn would have no hesitation in revealing his secret, and then he would be ruined. He readied himself for what the men were going to ask of him.

Tarn was too proud to offer his labour to any of the Lossoth, especially not to Igal, who was an unscrupulous trader, but full of pride that he was held in high regard by the community as a merchant. Tarn hated the man for his false pride, not recognising the same quality in himself. His sense of self-importance was at the centre of his being. The difficult youth he had endured drove him to prove that he was better than everyone else, more powerful, wealthier, stronger; it also drove him to assume that he was all of these things, even when he was not. But he had at least managed to scare Igal.

When Nilak told the man that they wanted the job of attending to the goods in the warehouse and bringing them onboard, his relief was visible. Igal did not seek to question the men, in fact he had as yet not been able to secure anyone willing to do the job and had been worried that he would have to do it himself. His manner changed and he expressed thanks to the men. Nilak nodded to Tarn, and the deal was sealed. They knew that Igal would not say any more of the matter, he had considered himself to have got off lightly.

Thynne was positioned behind the large crowd, hidden by the mast and rigging from the eyes of the elves; he was watching the trial. Driven by their curiosity, Nilak and Tarn sauntered across, where they both listened to the proceedings with interest, thinking how much Marreth would welcome this information.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Hilde had pulled back from the circle and now stood defiantly at the far end of the room. Her hands were clenched tightly to her hips as she glared obstinately at her accusers. If she felt any fear or trepidation, it was not evident from the expression on her face.

Turning angrily from her accusers, she directly addressed Luindal, “You would believe these men? I am a poor woman. I have no reason to be involved with outlanders or their dealings. I cook and clean and labor. Intrigues over lost Stones mean nothing to me.”

“Look instead to Alahseey. She has many reindeer herds and is an Elder. She and her kin are used to getting her own way. Her family supplies furs to the outlander ships and gains riches thorough the trade. What nonsense they have in their heads I do not know, but I am certain they would use their slippery tongues and promises of wealth to secure their mother’s release.”

The Elf countered calmly, “You are saying that Alahseey’s family bribed my men to speak as they did?”

“Aye, that I am… She could not do it herself. But we have had dozens of Lossoth on and off this ship with the supplies. With my own eyes I have seen her youngest son loading barrels in the hull. Who knows what mischief he was sowing?”

There was an uproar among the onlookers as the nature of Hilde’s charge became apparent. One of the brothers had to be restrained by his fellow Elves to keep from breaking out of the crowd and personally throttling Hilde’s neck.

Alahseey wrenched free of her captors and hurled herself in front of Luindal. “Let me speak! I must answer these charges for Hilde’s words touch my family and its honor. My son is an honest trader who supplies furs and other provisions for your crew. He would meet any in fair combat to defend his mother's honor, but never would he stoop to cunning and deceit. If there are lies here, they do not come from me or my family.”

“You hate me!” Hilde countered, her face livid with rage.

The Elder pivoted about, “No, not I. But I do feel sorry for you. You may desire to lead a simple life, but not your son. He dreams of gold and power and commanding others, and will stop at nothing. He even uses his poor mother to achieve his goals.”

Glancing at Luindal, Alahseey continued, “I knew the other day but had no time to tell you. Her son has put her up to this.”

“You have no proof!” Hilde retorted.

“No proof? If my guess is right, she holds the proof in her own hands. Luindal," she added, "look at the bag she carries at her side. Search it thoroughly and see what you find.”

The bag was immediately deposited in front of Luindal and its contents dumped out on deck. There was a clanging sound as a handful of gold coins bounced free, rolled a ways, and then came to a stop. Luindal bent down to retrieve a single coin, examining it closely. “Gold!” he confirmed. But it is not a coin I know.”

Rôg, who had been standing close by, glanced over his friend’s shoulder with a knowing look, “That is because it is from Umbar, the city where the Corsairs make their home.”

Luindal set down the coin and turned first to Alahseey, “I am sorry for this misunderstanding, and apologize for any slight to your family. We will talk later. I owe you much”

Then he faced the other woman and announced his decision, “Hilde, you are to be bound and turned over to the Council of Elders who will determine the punishment for your misdeeds. Andtuariel, could you go now and gather a band of Elves and Lossoth to accompany you to the Hall of the Elders? The Elders have asked that Hilde be held there under lock and key…”


The posse of Elves and Lossoth quickly regrouped at the far end of the deck. They secured Hilde's arms and legs with rope and formed an escort on either side of her. With Andtuariel in the lead, members of the group climbed down the ladder over the side of the ship and slipped into the small boats. Luindal continued to watch as the band reached shore with Hilde in tow and started their trek to the central Lossoth settlement where the Hall of Elders could be found.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth paced impatiently back and forth in his cabin. He had been waiting all morning to hear some news back from those who'd been sent out to spy on the Elven vessel. Already it was noon, and no one had returned. He was beginning to wonder if he should go on his own and try to find something out, when there was a knock on the cabin door. He opened the door and saw the two Lossoth, Nilak and Tarn, standing in front of him. They were talking very quickly.

Within a few moments the whole story was out: how Hilde was being dragged away to prison, and also Igal's promise to place them in charge of the warehouse when the supplies were shipped to the Elves just two days from now. Marreth responded warmly, "You've done well. A shipment of large barrels in two days is more than I could have hoped for. We will speak more on that later, but right now we have no time. There's another job that needs doing."

Marreth ran up on deck and sounded the alarm bell, which was a signal for his best men to gather fully armed within his cabin. He returned to his quarters, sat down at the table, and explained, "Hilde the Lossoth has been a good friend to us. She has been seized by the Elves and is being dragged off to prison. Let us go now and seize her back. Who is with me in this?"

A considerable cheer went up and several men surged forward. As Marreth began to stand up, he saw Jynne off scowling to the side and nodded towards him that he should speak.....

[Imladris]

Jynne shifted uncomfortably in front of the captain. The spy had been found out -- this did not trouble Jynne any. What made a god spy was not being found out. It was her own fault that she had been careless.

Now Marreth wanted to bring her back. Why? She was useless. Defective. Clumsy. Careless. A danger to them. He narrowed his eyes and glared at Marreth. Why was she so important? Why would Marreth risk so much on her?

Clearing his throat, Jynne leaned on the table and said softly, "I have a question before we go. How is Jarlyn? He was not feeling well some days ago." He smiled thinly.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth glared over at Jynne. There was something in the man's tone that annoyed him. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was definitely there.

"How is Jarlyn?" Marreth repeated. "You should know as well as I.... My friend has been in bed since our return to the ship. That means that I will have to ask you to stand up in his place. Take a small contingent of men with you, and have them fall in behind my group. I do not know how many armed men Luindal has sent as an escort. But let's be safe. I am determined have Hilde back and safe on our ship. Form ranks now and hurry to the Hall of the Elders where she is likely to be held."

What Marreth did not tell Jynne or any of the other men was that he did not want to have the Lossoth woman in a postion where the Elders could squeeze her for information about the Corsairs and their plans. Not that he had told her too much, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

With that, Marreth strapped his sword to his side and plunged out the door, with the others following behind him.

[Niluial]

Andtuariel watched Hilde suspiciously as she was assisted into one of the boats. Once Andtuariel and the others were securely in the boat she took a breath in and looked at her surroundings. It was odd outside, one couldn’t explain it, the clouds looked so huge with a slight grey tint to them, they looked daunting. The atmosphere was strange too; an uneasy feeling is what Andtuariel felt, a sickening feeling, a knot deep inside her. She decided to think on another topic; she had no idea why she was to lead everyone, but she figured Luindal had seen her strong, determined and very bossy characteristics. Elwë always used to say I make a good leader. She smiled at Elwë who sat beside her. Andtuariel had chosen Elwë and another elf to attend her in the boat with Hilde, among with other Lossoth.

Once they were on the shore she walked ahead with Jannel, a Lossoth, who guided her and the group to the Elders Hall. Andtuariel felt jittery, for no reason at all. Elwë frowned at her as they walked, “something wrong?” he inquired. Andtuariel shook her head, she couldn’t explain.

Andtuariel smiled slightly as they walked through the village. It was beautiful and unique, to her, she had never really looked closely or admired a Lossoth Villiage; the little ice huts, everything so simple yet amazing. Everything was silent; the weather was becoming worse and the snow was thick and heavy. She smiled at the Jannel the Lossoth who was guiding her. She raised her hand high in the air, ordering all to stop. Andtuariel turned towards the Jannel.

“It seems like we will walk miles from here, the weather is getting worse. Are there any short cuts?” Andtuariel asked frowning, her lips ice blocks.

“Yes,” Jannel replied, “there are quiet a few but I think I know the right one to take, it’s the safest. We better be as fast as we can before we all freeze to death.”

Andtuariel chuckled, “at least we have our warm fur coats.”

She smiled at the group and shouted for them to follow her and Jannel. She had to shout as loud as she could, the wind was strong and it carried her voice. Like the snow had done so many times, it cut deep into their skin as the wind carried it. The walk was becoming painful and exhausting but Andtuariel was sure they were to arrive at the Elders Hall soon enough, with that thought she was content.

[Arry]

Carandû watched as Hilde, her hands bound behind her, was assisted into one of the boats tied up at the ship’s side. Andtuariel and two other Elves as well as several of the Lossoth accompanied her in the boat as they rowed toward the shore. Annû and he accompanied Alahseey in the second boat with two of the Lossoth men to man the oars. In the last boat was Rôg with his Lossoth companion, Bear. Luindal had placed another two Elves in with them. And behind all of them were three very small skiffs holding several Lossoth each.

The trip from ship to shore was uneventful. Even so, the Elves all had their bows at the ready. And Carandû kept his eye on Hilde, though she was bound. Any sign of trouble and he planned to dispatch her quickly with an arrow.

Once on shore, Andtuariel took the lead, one of the Lossoth from the meeting showing her the way to the Elders Hall. Following her were a group of Lossoth, ringing the prisoner. Elves came close after, wary, their weapons drawn. And at the end came Rôg and Alahseey flanked by Carandû and his brother with a few armed Lossoth bringing up the rear. A short winding path across a stretch of frozen tundra brought them in sight of a small snowy rise with a great rounded top, ice house on its low plateau. About it, at the foot of the rise were clustered a number of small hewn ice huts, which served as the central part of the Lossoth village. A short narrow path led up the side of the rise.

Carandû saw Andtuariel hold up her hand to call a halt as the group reached the far outskirts of the village. It was beginning to snow; the view ahead was getting hazy. Most of the villagers appeared to have already taken shelter in their homes as the little passageways between them were empty of traffic. He could just see Andtuariel and her Lossoth guide discussing, most probably, he thought, the quickest route to the Elder’s Hall. Satisfied that they could find their way through the increasing obscuring snow, Andtuariel called back along the line for all to follow along closely. Visibility was becoming poor, even for the Elves.

Silently, Andtuariel led the way toward the center of the settlement through the increasing flurries. The rest followed along in her tracks . . .

[Child of the 7th Age]

All the while the group was trudging forward, Hilde fidgeted with her wrists and fingers, desperately trying to loosen the cords. Her efforts were unsuccessful. Nor could she gain the sympathy of the Lossoth guards who surrounded her despite repeated efforts to speak with them and point out the injustice of dragging an old woman off to prison.

By now, the snow was falling in thick sheets: it was difficult to see clearly to the side or to glimpse anything more than a few feet ahead on the trail. Hilde's lone remaining hope was that Marreth would keep his promise and send a band of partisans to rescue her.

For some time, the escort of Elves and Lossoth plodded onward, although their progress was slowed by a mounting accumulation of snow. In spots, the path had become quite slick. Suddenly, a large field loomed directly ahead, a wide expanse of mown grass that normally served as the market for the town, but which was now empty and blanketed with several inches of snow. Despite the swirling flakes, Hilde could make out the outline of a sturdy wooden structure on the far side of the plaza where the jail and the Hall of the Elders sat. It was the only permanent building in the settlement and one which was well fortified. Once inside, Hilde thought it unlikely that she could break loose, even with the help of the Corsairs. While there were no onlookers or traders out in the middle of a storm, a few canopies and tables still lay haphazardly scattered about the square, seemingly deserted and stripped of their wares.

Hilde peered towards the largest of these vacated trading stations, narrowing her eyes and straining to see if anyone was there. Although she could glimpse little in the darkness of the storm, she was relieved to hear a familiar signal coming from the booth on the far end of the plaza: the hoot of a snowy owl sounded once, then two more times in quick succession. She smiled slightly, then dug the heel of her left boot deep into the snow, and purposely wrenched her leg sideways as she went sprawling down on the slippery path. Her guards bent over to help her up....

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth watched Hilde slip on the ice and fell on the ground. This momentary distraction was the perfect opportunity to launch the attack. Marreth and his men rushed toward Hilde, only to be blocked by a ring of Lossoth.

Marreth began thrusting his sword at the Snowmen, but they were able to parry his jabs. Try as he might, it did not look like he was going to be able to reach Hilde. He needed to find a new way to somehow get the Elves to release her. Marreth was not the only one to have trouble, his crew did not seem to be having much success. He selected one particular Lossoth in the middle of the circle and began attacking him. Maybe if that Lossoth was killed it would provide a hole through which the Corsairs might be able to slip through and rescue Hilde.

Marreth’s blows descended swiftly upon the Snowman who backed up with every lunge. Finally the rapier sliced through the Lossoth’s stomach and he fell over dead, his blood trickling out onto the snow. But just as he fell, another one of his comrades who had been standing behind him stepped forward to take his pace. And so Marreth began his attack once more against his new adversary. Try as he might, Marreth was simply not able to break through. He would have to find another way or Hilde was certain to end up behind bars.

[Lalwendë]

Marreth’s obvious satisfaction with the task Nilak and Tarn had carried out had filled Tarn with exhilaration and energy. He had joined the Corsairs as they set off in a great rush to attempt their rescue of Hilde. They were a pack of wolves slipping through the white shroud of the blizzard. The snow came down relentlessly, and soon the party were all so thoroughly covered that they were indistinguishable from their surroundings.

As they stood in the deserted market place, struggling to see anything in the storm, the voices of the Elven party came out of the white sky, muffled but close, and the signal was given to attack. Hilde was defended closely and keenly, and Tarn failed to make any difference to the attack.

Standing back and sighing with exasperation, his exhilaration began to turn to anger. He was as determined as the Corsair captain to rescue the captive, but more than anything, he wanted to continue to make an impression. Nagging at him was a slight sense of surprise that a Corsair should be so keen to save one of the Lossoth, although this was a feeling he could not quite explain.

Tarn impatiently scuffled at the ground with his frostbitten foot to keep the blood flowing, something he was always careful to do when standing out in snow; the old injury still troubled him. He looked down for a moment and saw the sharp edged stones he had uncovered by stamping in the snow. Without pausing to think, he stooped, grabbed a handful of the quartz stones, and began to stuff them into snowballs.

Someone shouted angrily that it was no time to be playing childish games. One of the Lossoth guards scoffed as he saw what looked like a huge man made of ice trying to start a snowball fight. But Tarn, barely able to conceal the laughter rising inside him, hurled the first of his deadly snowballs and it glanced off the head of the guard; his mocking quickly turned to dismay when he felt the blood running from the gash in his brow to his mouth.

[Imladris]

Jynne dived into a clump of evening shadows and watched the Corsairs clash blades with the Snowmen, all the while wondering if Marreth would ever learn that one could not underestimate elves. They were not defeated easily, and had the nasty ability to wriggle free from tight places.

Of course, fighting was never the best way to get things done, he observed thinly. Naturally, you kill the enemy, but then you yourself die along with them. Of course, there were the few that survived, but fighting was not a winner's game. Both sides ultimately lost. Why play a game one couldn't win?

Then he saw her. The female elf. An evil grin cracked his face. Why were the elves so foolish? Sliding from the shadows, he slipped towards her. His dagger whispered from its sheath.

She was hanging around the edges of the fighting. Her fingers fidgeted, her feet tapped as if she wanted to go and help but then thought better of it.

Foolish girl.

Silently as the shadows fell, he wrapped his arm around her neck, and deftly caught her small wrists in his iron fist. She gasped, but swallowed her scream, which was something. Most women shrieked and fainted at the first sign of danger. "Do you feel that?" he whispered, pricking her neck with his dagger. "Fear that, and things may go well for you. I owe you my thanks, though" he added, nodding his head in a mock bow. "The elves were foolish to bring you along. They will do anything to save a woman." Licking his lips, he shouted, "Oy! Snowman leader!"

Some of the Snowmen and the elves had already noticed the elven lady's predicament and had stopped fighting, suddenly wondering what they were to do. Jynne laughed silently to himself. They were men of small stature to be so easily blown apart by a gusty gale.

"Now that we have finished this foolishness," Jynne said silkily, "I would like to make you an offer. Give us Hilde --" he cast a distasteful glance at her (if she had been more careful they wouldn't be here) -- "or your elf will never see the light of the Valar on a westward ship."

[Niluial]

Andtuariel gasped as the cold blade of the dagger was held against her skin and hard, rough hands grabbed her small and fragile wrists. She breathed deeply trying to quell the fear that bubbled somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Andtuariel felt a slight trickle of blood creeping down her neck as the corsair held the dagger too closely. The one thought that echoed through her mind was, "What is happening...why was the Corsair doing this?” Then she realized that she was a bargaining chip. They would kill her...

"Do you feel that?" he said, his voice cold, sly and creepy. "Fear that, and things may go well for you. I owe you my thanks, though" the corsair added. “The elves were foolish to bring you along. They will do anything to save a woman." He hissed softly, and tightened his grip. She cringed, hating the filthy feel of his hands. "Oy! Snowman leader!" he shouted loudly.

Everyone stopped as they noticed her. No… ignore him, keep on fighting.

"Now that we have finished this foolishness, I would like to make you an offer. Give us Hilde or your elf will never see the light of the Valar on a westward ship."

She felt a cold, numb feeling swell inside of her. She could die. She could never go west. She must not think about that...

Andtuariel heard a few people gasping and others whispering. She watched the crowds slowly step back when a sudden shout came from the crowds, “Let her go!” Andtuariel saw a tall handsome figure, it was Elwë. He was about to run right up to her when Annû grabbed Elwë and pulled him back, whispering something in Elwë’s ear.

Andtuariel watched the elves discuss the situation, while the corsair stood silently behind her though the grip on his knife never faltered. Andtuariel was scared, wishing that she could live, yet hoping they wouldn't turn Hilde over to the Corsairs. Finally the elves finished and Elwë walked up and said while trying to keep calm, “we will give you Hilde if you give us Andtuariel.”

Andtuariel didn’t believe the Corsairs would stick to their side of the deal, why would they? She was hoping they would, but doubted it.

[Arry]

Carandû watched as his brother pulled Elwë aside. And then heard Elwë speaking to the Southrons who held Andtuariel - ‘We will give you Hilde if you will give us Andtuariel.’ It was obvious that Elwë had never treated with the men from the shadowed south. Why should they give the Elf back? It would be far more strategic to keep her – to force the others of Luindal’s band out of the bay and out of the picture as far as finding the palantíri. As far as he could see, Andtuariel was an unfortunate player in this. She would be dead or worse no matter if Hilde were given back or kept prisoner.

As Elwë waited for the Corsair answer, Carandû made his way up to where Hilde was ringed by the other Elves, a smug look on her face. ‘You are nothing but fodder for carrion eaters, old woman,’ he growled at her snatching her up easily in his grip. Dragging her across the ice toward where the Corsair held the Elf captive, he cried out in a great voice. ‘Is this the offal that you seek, southern dung beetles?’ ‘Take her, then,’ he bellowed heaving her small form at the one who held Andtuariel.

Carandû nocked an arrow and let it fly after the Lossoth spy, intending to kill her at the feet of the curs who’d bought her. One of the Corsairs loosed an arrow of his own, bringing the Elf down. He could hear the enraged cries of his brother as he fell, and the zip . . . zip of arrows as they cut through the air from Annû’s bow . . .

[piosenniel]

Rôg’s first impulse was simply to flee. He did not care for combat, save by ink, quill, and paper or by words spoken within the agreed boundaries of debate. No hint of warrior blood informed his actions when faced with clashes of the physical sort. Weaponless, he backed behind Bear who seemed about to run himself. ‘What’s happening?’ he whispered.

‘That Carandû fellow . . . the one what went down,’ he heard Bear say, who now seemed rooted to the ice as he watched the events unfold ahead. ‘He’s bleedin’ awful bad. You can see the red spreading out on the ice. ‘His brother’s shootin’ at the Corsairs and now it looks like the other Elves and my people have joined in.’

‘What about that Elf that was leading us?’ he said, peering around the Lossoth’s shoulder.

‘Can’t say. Can’t see her in all the hubbub.’ Bear shifted his spear to his right hand in preparation for joining the fight. ‘Come on. We can’t leave them to fight by themselves.’ He pulled Rôg forward, shaking his head at the man’s empty hands. ‘Do something, or your friends will be slaughtered!’ Bear took off running to join the fray.

And probably so will I!’ squeaked the skinchanger to himself. He shrugged his shoulders, thinking wildly. The image came to him of the goshawk (http://www.adfg.state.ak.us/pubs/notebook/bird/goshawk.gif) he’d seen earlier in the year, a snow-hare plucked easily from the ground as it ran for cover; long, strong, sharp talons of the raptor sunk readily into the flesh . . .

Flap . . . flap . . . glide . . .

The wings of the blue-grey bird pushed him over the heads of the combatants. From his vantage point he could see the Corsair still had Andtuariel in some sort of a grip. As the bird drew near, he dropped lower, his long legs extending toward the man’s head. Talons finding purchase, he dipped his sharp hooked beak and sank it deeply round the man’s nose . . . giving it a strong, hard nip.

There! That should give the Elf a fighting chance!

With a rapid flutter of wings, he flew off seeking other suitable “prey” . . .

[Imladris]

The bird came from nowhere, descending upon him like a hawk upon a mouse. Jynne roared with pain as the bird bit him on the nose, but had the sense not to let go of the elven wench. He tightened his grip upon her wrists, and shifted the knife so that it could more easily slit her throat in a moment's time.

The arrows reigned around them, and he backed against a tree, clutching the wench as a shield against him. He could feel the blood run down his nose, bathing his lips crimson.

Raising his voice, he shouted, "ENOUGH OF THIS OR THE ELF WILL MEET A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH!"

The silver blade flashed across her cheeks...a river of blood appeared. "This can do much worse," he said in a soft silky voice that penetrated the air. "This blade is bathed in poison, it burns you skin, does it not?" he asked almost politely. He smiled thinly as she nodded her head, a soft whimper on her lips. "And not even your bird fiend will save her," he added. "If I so much as see a shadow a birdish shadow, or hear a flutter of wings, I will not hesitate to strike. Maybe, I'll strike in such a way that she dies a slow, painful death that not even the elves can stay," he whispered silkily. "If the foolish Hilde dies, this elf dies -- very painfully."

[Arry]

His brother was dead. No flicker of familiar thoughts eased Annû’s mind as he laid his hand on the unmoving chest. He wondered for one brief moment if the old tales were indeed true. Would he meet his brother once again in the West; see him walking with that impish look in his grey eyes as he left Namo’s halls, lips curved in a smile?

"ENOUGH OF THIS OR THE ELF WILL MEET A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH!"

The Corsair’s voice cut through Annû’s thoughts. He blinked back his tears, anger replacing sorrow. Annû stood, looking toward where the southron held Andtuariel. A quick glance about and he saw Elwë standing still as death, eyes fixed on her; barely breathing as the Corsair’s knife held steady against Andtuariel’s neck. Tucking his anger away with his sorrow, Annû called out to the Corsair.

‘Stay your hand! You have Hilde, still alive it seems, as I can see her huddling low like some dog at her master’s feet. We will retreat back to our boats – leaving one on the shore for Andtuariel. Two of us will wait for her.’

The remaining Elves and Lossoth retreated as quickly as they could, leaving their dead behind. Reaching the shore where the boats were tied, they made for the ship, oars dipping silently into the cold waters of the bay.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Regin Hardhammer's post

Marreth did not like surprises from his own men. And he was angry that Jynne had pulled this off on his own without even bothering to inform him beforehand. His men were a band of pirates whom he expected to obey his orders, to act together as a group, and not go off on some hairbrained scheme of their own making. If Jynne did this once, he was apt to do it another time and the results could be less than gratifying.

In the full hearing of all the company, he turned and snarled, "Jynne, lay down your blade. We can surely handle a dainty morsel such as this with a good sturdy dagger and no poison on the tip. And the next time you decide to bring along a poisoned dagger, or perform a stunt like this, I want to hear about it first. I am the one in charge here, and I give the orders!. "

"Now, maties," he turned back with a broad grin to his other men. "As long as we have this little princess in our control, we might as well make use of her. She will be our special guest." He turned and flashed her a welcoming grin and then continued, "You've no need to fear. As soon as your friend Luindal brings me the Stones, you'll return safely to your friends, but not till I have the palantiri in my hands."

"What about them?" Jynne sulkily prodded, pointing towards the two from the Elven party who had remained behind. The look on Jynne's face left little doubt that he preferred to see their bodies lying on the ground.

"Come now, Jynne," Marreth replied in a silky voice. "We mustn't be greedy. I've no use for more than one captive, and this one looks prettier than those two." Marreth saw Jynne's fingers tighten on his dagger as he turned and scowled. The Captain replied so all could hear. "If anyone lays a hand on either of those men, they will answer personally to me!"

Marreth then turn and spoke to the two, "Return to your ship. The Elf stays with me. She is war plunder fairly won. But I am a generous man. Have Luindal bring me the Stones, and she will go home. But try any tricks....try to escape with the magic Stones....and this little lady will walk the plank."

He turned and shook his head: "Not a pleasant way to die, I'm afraid. Once you get beyond the waters of the Bay, the sharks are very hungry. Always looking for a morsel to eat, and the waves very high. A frail thing like this wouldn't have a chance."

For one moment, it looked as if one member of the waiting party would charge forward with sword outstretched in a foolish gesture that could only end in death. But his comrade took charge and forcibly held him back, shouting to Marreth that this thing was not ended and that there would be a price to pay. The Corsair only turned and laughed, saying he didn't make it a practice to pay for anything. He simply took what he wanted, and this little Elf maiden was not different at all.....

Seeing that any attempt to rescue Andtuariel would only be a foolish gesture with nothing positive gained, Luindal's men turned and walked back to their boat.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Niluial's post:

Andtuariel pulled and struggled but her hands had been tied together firmly -- but Marreth had seen to it that Jynne hadn't tied the thongs cruelly tight. She knew that there was no way out of this. She sat in the row boat, glaring at the filthy pirates around her. One Corsair licked his lips with a smug, sickening look upon his face. She looked back on the shore, panic stricken. She didn’t want to die yet she didn’t want to be around these awful Corsairs anymore. Andtuariel had always wanted to die a hero -- yet this wasn't exactly a heroic way to die.

Her thoughts left the rowing boat, left all her troubles… she thought of Elwë. She knew he was probably crying or angry or filled with mixed emotions. Andtuariel was worried about him and what he may do to himself, to the others just to save her life. She was also worried about the stones, she wanted to live but would rather be dead than to see those precious stones in the Corsairs filthy hands!

[piosenniel]

Rôg took the quickest way across the icy waters, outpacing the boats as he winged his way back to The Sea-Spirit. With a screech he dove toward the ship’s railing, extending his talons toward it to secure a sure perch. What a horror this venture had turned into! he thought, jumping from the railing to the deck.

‘Luindal!’ he shouted, running down the stairs toward the Captain’s room. A number of those still on board peeked out from their rooms and from the galley, hastening behind him as he neared Luindal’s study.

‘What’s happened?’ they asked crowding about him as he knocked on the Captain’s door. ‘Where are the others?’

‘The Corsairs were waiting for us. They’ve captured Andtuariel; taken Hilde. Many are dead . . . many . . .’

The door opened. Luindal stood there, his face unreadable. ‘Who is dead?’ he asked in a quiet voice.

‘Carandû, for one . . . and possibly Andtuariel, by now . . .’ began Rôg as he entered the room. He took a seat on one of the nearby chairs; the events of the day had settled in on him at last and his knees were shaking. Those who could crowded about in the hallway near the opened door as he recounted the unfortunate unfolding of what had seemed a straightforward and simple mission at the first.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Luindal stared somberly at the table in front of him, carefully masking his feelings and averting his eyes from Rôg's. His head reeled with pain as he heard his friend recount the tale of disaster that had befallen the escort sent out with Hilde. Luindal found his thoughts racing desperately in two different directions: deep sadness and horror on hearing about the death of innocent folk who had done nothing more than follow his orders, and a growing sense that he was into something for which he had no experience or stomach, and that his own shortsightedness had caused innocent folk to lose their lives. Just as soberly, what was he doing sitting on the ship while his men were battling and losing their lives? He should never have put Andtuariel in this dangerous situation: he should have led the raid himself.

For a moment, he thought of going off on his own to contact Cirdan, begging the old Elf to relieve him from command of this mission for which he was obviously so ill suited. Yet he knew the answer he would receive even before he raised the question: I am sorry Luindal, but there are too few of us left. And we do bear some responsibility for this situation, since the Stones were our inventions. You are the best we have. If you can not do it, then the Stones will ultimately fall into evil hands and the old, bad days return. Only this time there will be no Gandalf or Galadriel to tip the scale against the forces of evil, and the dominion of Man will begin not with the even hand of Gondor but with Harad, an empire bent on dominion and might. He could not sit here and mope or reflect. Something had to be done, and fast.

Luindal reached out and placed his hands on his friend's shoulder, "Rôg, your words bring sadness. To hear of the death of innocent folk is no joy, and Cârrandu worst of all! Let us pray his brother survives. But if we stop here, we will do no honor to their memory and sacrifice."

Luindal began to speak again, but was interrupted by a sudden noise and commotion coming from the hallway. Someone was pushing hurriedly through the crowd of onlookers who were gathering in greater numbers outside the open door. Instantly, one of the Lossoth thrust the door fully open, raced inside and approached the table where Luindal sat, blurting out the latest news. "The small boat has returned. Annû and his companion live, but the boat holds no more than these. Marreth has taken the Elf and threatens not to return her till he has the Stones in his grasp. If we discover the palantari and sail home with them, he says she will die in the manner of the pirates: by being forced out onto the plank."

"Was Marreth the one who did this thing?" Luindal growled.

One of the Elves in the hallway shook his head, "Yes and no. Marreth was willing to take advantage of the situation, but it was not he who put the blade to Andtuariel's throat. It was another..... the oily looking Corsair with the evil face who calls himself Jynne."

The Lossoth who shared the original news quickly added, "Marreth was not so pleased with Jynne's actions, I think. For he had harsh words with him as we stood there and waited, in front of the whole company of Corsairs. Jynne would have had the two of us killed, and seemed to be pushing the Corsair captain to do that. In fact, I think he would have slit Andtuariel's throat without a second glance. But Marreth put him in his place. He berated him for carrying a poisoned blade when he himself had not been told of Jynne's intentions. I do not know what is happening, but there is bad blood between those two."

Luindal nodded in understanding. It sounded as if Marreth had his hands full on more than one front. He turned to address his companions who now stood clustered in the hallway, spilling over into his cabin, "We will rest and mourn our dead for one day. Then we will do what should have been done in the beginning. The Lossoth are a good people, but they are largely tied to the shore without large ships of their own. They do not think in terms of the water. We will take this thing to sea. The Stones were lost at sea and they will be found there. We may have a trick for Master Marreth up our sleeve." He glanced over at Rôg and gave him a knowing look.

"But what of Andtuariel?" a voice from the crowd cried out.

"Leave that to me. I have something in mind....something that is best left unsaid for the time being. I have not forgotten her. But for the moment, let us honor our dead and bind our wounds, for the morning after next we will go in the smaller boats and locate the Stones on the bottom of the Bay. I can promise you that."

With that, he said goodbye to the men, but beckoned Rôg privately forward. "I must speak with you for a moment in private. We can not leave Andtuariel with no protection. Yet for the moment I think she is safe. This Marreth has tipped his hand by telling us that he will have her walk the plank. No one walks the plank while his ship is moored to the dock, yet this is exactly where he is."

"But can we trust him at his word? He is a pirate." queried Rôg.

"A pirate, yes. But also a man who has to keep Jynne in his place. He has said this thing publicly in front of all the assembled Corsairs about keeping the Elf alive till he gets the Stones. He is using her as a bargaining chip. As long as she has value, he will not harm her. Plus, Marreth can not give in to Jynne's demand and immediately skewer her, or he will look foolish, having said something otherwise to his men. No, he will do exactly what he said. "

Luindal added as an afterthought, "Unlike this Jynne, Marreth has at least that much honor. But still, I do not trust the Corsairs."

Luindal glanced over at Rôg and then plunged in. "I have a proposition for you. We need to keep an eye on the situation over there. It seems to me that as a Hobbit friend of mine once said: what's good for the goose is good for the gander. I could have a Lossoth sent over and find some pretext for him or her to serve on shipboard. But I have a better idea. You can get in and out of places very quickly and get back to me with great speed. I do need you here, especially now that we will be diving down into the Bay. But might you be able to do a surveillance flight or two just to keep an eye on things, and get some word through to Andtuariel to let her know that we have not forgotten her?"

..................

The candle had burned low, with only a small stub still remaining, by the time that Luindal and Rôg had finished their conversation. In the course of the evening, they had touched upon many different matters and had come up with a plan to search for the Stones in the Bay. "We are agreed then," Luindal nodded at his friend. "We will begin our search the morning after next. You will dive into the deep waters, using whatever guise you choose, while I will help you in the water as best I can after taking up the air bladders and putting on a protective suit smeared over with a thick layer of whale grease. We will take a small armed guard with us, but leave a goodly contingent of men on the Spirit to stand guard, for we would be foolish to trust the Corsairs any further." With a shake of the hand the two parted for the night. Luindal vowed privately that he would speak with Annû concerning his brother sometime the next day.

[Orofaniel]

Galhardir who had remained on the ship didn't believe his own ears. The first thing that came to him was the ill news about Carandû's death. He didn't want to believe it, although he knew it was what had happened when he looked at Annû. Annû was obviously devastated, without really accepting the fact that his brother was dead.

Galhardir felt much anger, but most of all sorrow. The two elven brothers had helped him twice since he'd first met them. Carandû was now dead, and he was dead without him, Galhardir, being able to even try giving something in return. The reason he had stayed at the ship was to be sure he was fully recovered. The horrible news that the Corsairs had been waiting for them and attacked had come as a horrible shock that no one had prepared for, nor had they thought something as drastic as this would come as they left the ship with Hilde. Galhardir held on tight to Rodhal, because of the sudden feeling that his knees would fail and he would fall. How had this happened? He didn't understand it. He looked at Rodhal, who had tears in his eyes. Galhardir wasn't sure if the boy shared the same feelings or if he'd even understood what had been said.

"Uncle?" he said. His voice was tearing Galhardir apart as it was full of sorrow and grief.

[Lalwendë]

Tarn stood impatiently stamping his feet to keep them warm as Nilak fumbled with the keys to the warehouse. Igal had supplied him with a bunch of large brass keys, and had informed him that there were several locks. None of these keys were marked in any way and it took Nilak some time to find the correct one for each lock. The snow was still falling and now that night had fallen, the temperature had plummeted.

When Nilak finally managed to open the door, Tarn bundled him in quickly.

“Let’s light a brazier before we start on this work”, he said, shaking out the fur he wore over his coat. The snow which had frozen to it flew out in a flurry as he beat the fur on the side of some crates. Thynne was still full of excitement about throwing the snowballs filled with stones and he could not keep still. It was beginning to irritate the two older men who had several hours work ahead of them and were cold and tired after the long walk from the market place.

“Thynne, go out and find some more coals for this brazier,” snapped Tarn, as he stooped, rubbing his hands in front of the meagre flame he had just sparked into life. “Trust Igal not to leave enough coals to warm an ice hut”, spat Nilak. Thynne asked for some money to buy coals with, but Tarn raised an eyebrow at the suggestion and the lad clearly got the message that he was to steal some.

Once they had warmed up, the men began to inspect the goods they were supposed to be packing for transportation to the Elven ship. Some produce was already packed, as Tarn found when he opened a cork on a large flask of wine. He dipped his finger in and tasted it, but did not drink any. His experiences with the drunken uncle who had taken over as elder of his clan had been enough to warn him off drink from a young age. “Here,” he said, handing the flask to Nilak with a knowing wink. “If this is any good you might like some. Drink it or sell it.”

The warehouse was quite a large structure by Lossoth standards and the light from the fire was not strong. Tarn saw large shadows looming up in the dim red gleam against the walls and looking in their direction, spotted the immense barrels which were to be loaded with goods for the Elves. Hefting one onto its side, he inspected it and found that the wood was strong but light; together with the great size of the barrel, a man could comfortably be concealed within.

The goods that the men were supposed to be packing lay along the opposite wall, clearly labelled. Tarn smirked as he saw them. Coils of rope, packages of canvas, an assortment of tools, spare blades for knives, nails and lengths of wood. Some of these things could easily be smuggled out of the warehouse and hidden, just enough to create space in the barrels to hide the Corsairs. The canvas, he could see, would make useful padding to muffle any suspicious noises from inside the containers, as they were sure to get a bumpy ride when loading the ship. As he saw Thynne come back in through the door, Tarn suggested to Nilak that the lad’s task should be to carry the goods out of there while they prepared the barrels.

[Arry]

Hands reached down to bring the two Elves quickly up from the rope ladder. Once on deck, Annû withdrew from the ring of questions that hammered against them, letting his companion answer them as he might. Others of the Elves made way for him as he walked to his room, their heads nodding slightly at his passing. No words or thoughts of comfort reached him. He had wrapped his grief about him, tightly . . . steely proof against unwanted access.

The door to their room was slightly ajar. For a moment he leaned against the frame, eyes closed, willing the familiar laughter at some puerile jest to come tumbling through the entryway. But there was only silence, broken softly by the thump . . . thump of a moth’s wings beating against the parchment shade that covered the low lit lamp near his bed.

‘You’ve left the lantern by your bed burning,’ he chided himself, stepping into the room. ‘Carandû will have your hide, little brother. You know how he hates . . .’

With a great wrenching pain, grief’s armor broke. Against the witness of the empty room it could not hold. Annû’s legs buckled and he slumped to the floor, his back against the now shut door. Head in hands he sobbed . . . waves of sorrow crashing over him . . .

Outside, the snow whirled softly against the ship; flakes disappearing as they met the icy waters.

[Kitanna]

Nilak had fumbled with the keys when they first arrived at the warehouse. Then he had to resist the urge to drink the wine he had put off to the side for himself. Every now and then he'd look up from his work and eye the bottle.

The hut was large and the coals were not enough to keep it heated. "Boy," Nilak snapped, "Get us some more coals. We don't want to freeze to death." Nilak went back to work as Thynne went out for more coals.

The two older Lossoths moved the supplies out of their way and worked some more on the preparing the barrels. When Thynne returned Nilak threw a coil of rope at his feet. The boy picked it up and moved it out like he had with most of the other supplies. Nilak and Tarn continued their work. Everything had to be ready for when Marreth and the Corsairs arrived.

[Imladris]

So that was how Marreth wanted to be, was it? Never mind that he just saved the entire expedition, nevermind that if it wasn't for him Hilde would not have been rescued. He supposed that Marreth didn't understand that sometimes things happened without forethought.

As for his daggers being poisoned...when were they not? A grim smile creased his face. It wouldn't be wise to let Marreth know that now, would it...

He threw a daggerous look at Marreth's back as they scrambled into the boats.

[piosenniel]

By the Great Winged One! Rôg muttered silently, flapping his wings against the falling snow. It must have been some great . . . no, strike that . . . make it cruel joke of the Elder King to make birds for this most inhospitable of lands. “May his fair winds keep us aloft!” he quickly whispered under his breath, casting a quick nod westward, to allay the harshness of his thoughts.

The same winds that aided his own flight, swirled the snow as it fell. From perch to perch his powerful wings beat steadily moving him silently toward his objective. ‘And what might that objective be?’ he wondered to himself and his great head swept from side to side, yellow eyes taking in the details of the frozen land below and the Lossoth community huddled upon it. ‘See what you can see,’ Luindal had told him. ‘Something to give us an inkling of what the Corsairs are doing.’

Leave it to an Elf to be vague . . . the snowy owl (http://www.owlpages.com/species/nyctea/scandiaca/pictures/snowy7_ba.jpg ) thought, snapping his beak in irritation.

He’d flown near the Corsair ship, noting only that it seemed busy much in the same way the Elven ship was busy. Too many crewmen were on board, even at this time of night . . . not safe to go snooping there now . . . passing over the top mast that held the identifying pennant, the owl answered a call of nature, leaving a large white splotch against the Southron flag’s dark background that wouldn’t be appreciated until the sun rose.

The Lossoth settlement seemed more promising. Most were in their homes, snug against the darkness and the weather for the time being. 'Now there is something promising,' he thought, noting a large building on the bayward perimeter of the settlement, not too far from the empty marketplace. What few small windows there were along its sides were all shuttered tightly, but here and there some soft light from within flickered. Curious, the owl glided down silently to the roof’s eaves, sidling along the beam they rested on until he found a small hole giving access to the high rafters. He peeked his head through the opening, then squeezed his shoulders and wings through, mashing his feathers close to his body. As his tail cleared the entryway, he sidestepped across the rafter until he had a good view of the room. Other birds had used the hole and beam previously he noted, their droppings frozen to the rough wood.

Rog hunkered down in the shadows of the high ceiling; the light from the brazier did not reach up here . . . nor did any heat, the bird noted sadly, fluffing his layers of feathers about him. Now to wait and see if anything of interest might unfold . . .

~*~

Later that night:

Odd goings on in the warehouse . . .

Curious, he thought, that two of the Lossoth should be here in a warehouse when others of their kind had closeted themselves snugly in their homes to wait out the snowy night. Rôg swiveled his head about taking the good neatly sorted along the warehouse walls. Coils of rope, he noted, length of wood, canvas . . . now wasn’t that interesting. These were the items he recalled Luindal had ordered stashed in the ship’s hold when they’d first left. One of his crew, the Quarter Master, he thought, had raised his brows at the meager quantity, but the Captain had assured him that additional supplies could be gotten from the people living round the bay. Now it made sense, the Lossoth would be seeing to the delivery of the goods sometime soon, and were going over the inventory. Yes, that would be it . . . there along the far wall were the large barrels in which much of the delivery would be crated.

One of the men pulled the cork from a small cask. He dipped his finger through the hole, tasting the liquid within. Rôg wondered if the two were going to warm themselves with the spirits, but the man replaced the cork and said something odd to his companion. ‘Here,” he said, handing the flask to Nilak with a knowing wink. “If this is any good you might like some. Drink it or sell it.’ Why would these men want to steal from themselves, Rôg thought. They looked as if they already had a proprietary interest in the goods.

Curiouser still, a young man came in. One of the men, laughing, suggested to the other that the lad should start taking the goods out, while the barrels were prepared. Prepared for what? They must intend to deliver the barrels as planned, but what was going into them? The young man listened carefully to the older and shook his head in understanding. One of the men pointed to a small cart parked just inside the warehouse front door. With a nod, the lad fetched it and began loading the wine and onto it, exiting through the back door when the cart was full. The rope came next, then the boxes of tools and knife blades.One of the Lossoth men, Rôg noted, had stayed the young man’s hand when he’d gotten to the canvas. A few words passed between the two, which Rôg could not catch. But the other man had chuckled as the boy went out with another load saying something about ‘ . . . wouldn’t want to lose our packing material, would we? Make a bumpy ride for ‘em!’

The back door to the warehouse opened once again; Rôg looked down to see what now the boy would choose to take out. But it was someone else who entered. A man – lean and lanky, with a long dark beard. Hints of dark red pants flashed out from his brown cloak as he strode purposefully into the warehouse and toward the two men. The newcomer’s gaze flashed back and forth at the contents of the warehouse. And in one of his passes, Rôg caught a brief glance of his face. The Corsair Captain! What was he doing here? Despite his acute sense of hearing, Rôg could not catch in full what the three men discussed. ‘Barrels’ he caught; gestures toward the canvas; soft laughter at some shared jest. ‘Elven ship’.

Rôg shook his feathers softly at these suspicious goings on, then sidled back toward the hole. Adjusting his eyes to the darkness outside the warehouse, the owl recovered his bearings as to where the Elven ship lay at anchor. On silent wings he sped back toward it. There was treachery afoot of some sort, of that he was now certain. Luindal would want to know of the odd meeting in the warehouse. What he would make of it, Rôg was not sure . . .

[Child of the 7th Age]

It had not been an easy day. Luindal had spoken with Annû as well as others in the ship's company who had lost kinfolk and friends in the recent Corsair attack. A service of remembrance was already planned to take place early the next morning. Luindal had relieved the brother from his normal responsibilities over the coming week, and urged him to take time for rest and reflection, making what peace he could with the sad change that had come into his life. Luindal privately wondered whether Annû would eventually decide to leave the Havens and travel westward in hopes of reuniting with his brother. But until they managed to conclude their mission and sail back to Cirdan, that decision was likely to be postponed.

Overcome with restlessness and having little appetite for dinner, Luindal pushed his trencher aside and wandered out on the open deck, staring fixedly across the Bay. Under his arm were a number of journals and maps that Cirdan had entrusted to him before their departure along with one other ancient chronicle presented by the Elders after his arrival. The latter was sadly incomplete. Although carefuly inscribed on the soft hide of a deer, the account was full of indecipherable letters and gaps where time and the elements had eaten away at the text. Alahseey had translated this document for him some days ago, and then had spent more days trying to guess at the missing parts.

Determined to glean what clues he could as to the likely whereabouts of the Stones, Luindal had spent most of the afternoon reading and rereading the accounts of the shipwreck as well as Alahseey's translation of the comments that had been gleaned from the Lossoth onlookers. The latter had attempted to describe the location of the ship, the configuration of the Bay and the weather conditions that had resulted in the shipwreck. Putting these important hints together with Cirdan's own observations and a set of carefully annotated navigation charts used by navigators from that earlier time, Luindal had reached the surprising conclusion that he actually knew where the Stones had sunk.

At first, he could hardly believe his luck and had assumed that this was all a miscalculation. But reading and plotting again, he had come up with the very same conclusion. About one hundred feet out in the water, on the eastern side of the Bay, there was a lengthy sandbar that most navigators were careful to avoid. Ssince the water in that portion of the Bay was not deep, it usually froze quite early in the year. While the sandbar would not have caused the disaster, which was the result of the ship being smashed against the ice, it would account for the fact that Lossoth commentators claimed to be able to see the top rigging of the wreck for some years afterwards, until the winds and elements had battered the remains into nothingness.

An owl hooted overhead out of the gloomy night shadows that caused Luindal to glance up and break into a grin. Rôg had evidently taken him up on the challenge of suveillance work and was now returning to the ship. Eager to share his news about the location of the Stones, the Elf turned towards the shapechanger to speak. But before he could get a word out, Rôg came flapping down furiously, first landing on the railing and then blurting out a tangled tale concerning a shipment of supplies and some further mischief that was being planned by the Corsair crew.

Luindal scowled and shook his head, "I should have known. But this time, they'll not get away with their pranks. We'll be waiting for them with drawn sword."

"Perhaps we should just refuse the shipment?" suggested Rôg.

Luindal shook his head, "We need those supplies. And if we turn the Corsairs back, they'll come up with another scheme we won't be able to discover. At least this way we are prepared for them, even if we don't know exactly what they plan to do." At this point, Luindal explained to Rôg about the possible location of the Stones. "If we can just hang on till the morning after next, we may have the palantiri in our hands, and can say goodbye to the Corsairs for good."

"Let me think more on this, and I'll address the men tomorrow." With that, the two parted and went their own ways.

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

The next morning, once the service of remembrance had concluded, Luindal had shared with the crew Rôg's tale of a possible scheme by the Corsairs. "The shipment is to come on board tonight. We'll be ready and waiting. Some in clear view on the deck, and others crouched in hiding places, but all armed to the teeth. Trust nothing these traders do or say, and keep your eyes open."

The crew muttered its approval and agreement. After the losses of the past two days, many welcomed the chance for another crack at their assailants.

"One more thing," Luindal noted. "I had thought to take the small boats out tomorrow morning hoping to locate the Stones at the bottom of the Bay. Since then, however, I think we may actually have come up with an idea as to where the palantiri lie. So perhaps we may be able to collect them and sail home soon. We won't know for sure till we go down and have a look, but all the signs are good." There were whispers and mutterering to hear this piece of welcome news. Luindal cleared his throat and continued, " If the Stones are where I suspect them to be, we will locate them and immediately crank them onto the deck of the Spirit using the large winch. In this situation, the smaller boats won't do. So we will sail out on the Spirit and, with a bit of luck, be heading home not too long after that...."

"Now back to your cabins, all. Sharpen your weapons and your wits for we will be needing them tonight."

The crew wandered off, excitedly talking about the news, and prepared for the evening to come. By the time the stars shone in the heavens, the Elves and their Lossoth allies were safely hidden on the ships, awaiting the arrival of the shipment of supplies.

[Regin Hardhammer]

As evening drew near and the time came for the men to leave, Marreth cast a suspicious glance toward Jynne but spoke to him calmly, “In light of recent events, I shall have to leave you on the ship during my next mission. I can’t work with untrustworthy shipmates in a venture as important as this. You best run your schemes by me before you go kidnapping Elves and putting poison on your blade lest you find yourself in an unpleasant situation. I’ll have the plank ready if you pull something like that again.”

If there was one thing that annoyed Marreth it was a crewmember going over his head. He had not come by his position by accident, and thought that he at least deserved the courtesy of the men keeping him well informed. A ship without a strong Captain was like an eel with its head cut off.

Marreth was also suspicious of Jynne and his poisons in regards to his friend Jarlyn. In Marreth’s view, no one who snuck poison aboard the ship without informing him could be wholly trusted. Although he had no proof, Marreth suspected that Jynne might be slipping something foul into Jarlyn’s food. He found it very unusual for an officer who looked perfectly healthy to suddenly begin vomiting and turn pallid, taking to his bed. Just that afternoon, he had assigned Thomas, one of his most trusted manservants, to prepare the sick man’s food and tend to him in his illness, making sure that no one else came near Jarlyn until he had fully recovered. Just before he left, Marreth asked the ship’s carpenter to borrow his smallest hole borer. Slipping the instrument into his pocket, Marreth promised to return the craftsman’s instrument shortly but gave no explanation as to what he planned to do with it.

Leading the way out of the ship, Marreth and his men marched forward toward the warehouse under the illumination of the full moon. Constructed out of sturdy wood, the warehouse stood firm in the center of the village despite the thrashing it regularly received from the wind and the snow. Entering the building, he thanked Tarn and Nilak for their hard work, and then instructed his crew to hop into the barrels and wait. The boxes and barrels were to be loaded onto smaller ships and ferried out to the Elven vessel where they would be lifted up onto the deck with the aid of a winch.

The two Lossoth had already lightened the barrels by removing some of their contents so the Elves would not grow suspicious of the weight. The crew were already choosing their barrels and preparing to hide, one man in each. Marreth scanned the various type of containers, which were filled with an assortment of things: rope, sail canvas, salt, weapons, and other goods. By the time he had taken his time to decide, all of the barrels had already been taken except for one filled with flower. Marreth grumbled as he lowered himself into it, fully expecting to look like a ghost when he came out. Marreth hoped that none of the crew had taken a pipe with them, especially since someone was likely to be knee deep in tobacco. He sat back and waited for the shipment to move. It was relatively roomy but his sword kept poking him in the side.

[Lalwendë]

Tarn felt a rush of pride as Marreth thanked him for the work. He had rarely been thanked in his thirty seven years, and most of those times were when he was a boy. Hunting and working with his grandfather, he had always received warm praise when he did a job well, but his adult life as an outsider brought little opportunity for praise; to survive he exploited others and by necessity he had fostered the image of being a thoroughly untrustworthy man. To receive praise now was a rare sensation which he found strangely satisfying and he visibly drew himself up to his full height, and gave an appreciative nod.

Eager to help the Corsairs, Tarn strode towards the barrels where various bodies, small and large alike, were attempting to climb into their chosen hiding places. Thynne was already working; he received a gift of a tasty strip of cured meat from a man he helped into a barrel well packed with canvas. The man could see that he would have a more comfortable journey to the ship than most, although he felt a little envious of his mate, who laughed fruitily as he sat down into a container of tobacco.

“You can leave me here,” he laughed, not seeing the disapproval on the Captain’s face as he climbed into his own barrel of flour. “What a shame there are no barrels of ale.”

“Ah, you’d drown happy,” said the man in the barrel of canvas, his voice now muffled as Thynne began to pack some of the canvas over his head.

“And that is why none of you are going in a vat of ale”, said Tarn, smiling as he worked to help a man with a large belly into a container of apples. There had been enough risk of drowning already, he thought to himself, remembering the cave and the attack on the ice. It was not a fit death for any creature, let alone a fighting man.

“Here, make sure you have your sword,” he said to the man quietly, packing the blade which had been forgotten in the rush to claim the best barrels into the container with him. He clapped him on the shoulder before he replaced the lid, closing the man into dark confinement.

[Kitanna]

Nilak watched Tarn beam with pride as Marreth thanked them both for their hard work. Nilak was proud of the work he and Tarn had accomplished in the short time they had, but it was clear Tarn was far more pleased.

Now both Lossoth men and Tarn's helper boy began loading Corsairs of all shape and sizes into the barrels. Nilak laughed at each comment the Corsairs made about going into the barrels. He had to admire them for willing to do this. Nilak probably would not have agreed to be shoved into a barrel. For any reason.

"Pity I didn't bring my pipe." One extremely tall Corsair said as Nilak tried to put him into a barrel of tobacco. "It would make this much better for me."

Nilak laughed and pulled the canvas over him. "I think the Elves might suspect something if a barrel started to smoke."

The Lossoth headed over Sernir who was attempting to get into a barrel. Nilak felt an urge to nail the barrel shut when he was inside. "If this plan of yours fails Lossoth you'll have to answer to me." Sernir spat as he situated himself in the barrel.

"Barrels don't talk, Sernir." Nilak pulled the canvas top over him to avoid another remark from the Corsair. He really wished he had a hammer and nails handy right about then.

[Imladris]

Jynne buttoned his lips and mimiced to his friend who would never betray him (also known as his mind): In light of recent events...if I hadn't done it then they would have taken Hilde (not that she deserved to be rescued) but all that our beloved captain can say is that I shouldn't have done it. Gratitude is not something that should be viewed lightly...It's time to bring Jarlyn a little of a drink...

Jynne slipped into the filthy kitchen and rummaged about for a goblet, which he filled with red wine. Fishing a slim vial from his belt, he tipped a few drops of clouded liquid and watched with satisfaction as it disappeared like mist into a rose gloom.

Smiling thinly to himself, he swirled the goblet as he slunk towards Jarlyn's quarters. A man, Thomas if Jynee recalled correctly, was slouched against the door, eyeing a flickering rainbow. As Jynne slipped behind the manservant, Thomas eased himself in front of the door handle and stared at Jynne with a puppy dog insolence.

"What are you doing?" asked Jynne impatiently.

"Captain's orders, sir," he drawled.

"And why is that?" asked Jynne.

"He is suspectful of Jarlyn's illness --" he shut his mouth as if to keep the wayward words to fly away. He nodded solemnly.

"I see," said Jynne silkily. "Do tell him that I stopped by to be sure he was getting better."

With a brief nod, Jynne slipped to the decks below, and pushed a creaky door open. The elf-woman was huddled in a corner, her hair a veil over her dirt streaked face.

"Elf," said Jynne. "You wouldn't happen to know anything that would be of interest to us, would you?"

The elf straigtened and buttoned her lips, glaring at him. He was foolish to think that she would have betrayed her people.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Luindal peered out over the bay. In the distance he could see a small flotilla of boats approaching the ship, each loaded down with two or three barrels and boxes. He had considered mooring the ship closer to the shore, at a point where an old wooden jetty jutted far out into the water. It would probably have made the loading easier. But he had rejected that idea. If the Spirit had pulled too near the shore, there was always the possibilty that the Corsairs could hide somewhere nearby and rush the ship en masse at an inopportune moment. This way no one should be able to approach them unawares.

They would need to crank the barrels onto the deck one at a time, using two large winches that stood beside the railing on the open deck. He beckoned to Rôg, Galhardir, and Freyn to climb over the side of the ship and go down the ladder into the first boat that had just drawn even to them. They were to speak with the Lossoth traders, shake hands on the deal, and offer the agreed on price. Then they would help attach the rope to the containers and steady them from below as he and Elwen and some of the others cranked up the rope and set the barrels and boxes out on deck.

Luindal closely observed the men who were accompanying the supplies in the boats. If these were Corsairs, they had done an amazing job of disguising themselves. To the outer eye and ear, they looked and sounded like native Lossoth. Perhaps the Corsairs had decided to rely only on their allies to do this little piece of mischief, and had stayed behind on their own ship. Yet this didn't sound like the approach that Marreth would take. Luindal shook his head and began to wonder what other mischief was afloat just as Rôg and the others began climbing down to the first small boat.

[Orofaniel]

Galhardir, Freyn and Rôg were now fully occupied with the Lossoth traders. Rôg did the talking while Galhardir just followed their conversation in the while standing in the background. He didn’t want to interfere in such business, as he knew nothing about them. Freyn was observing too, but shook hands twice with the Lossoth traders. The deal had already been made, so it didn't take long.

"Do you think there is anything...odd going on...?" Freyn suggested, as he came close up to Galhardir. "No, why would I think that?" Galhardir replied innocently. Shortly after answering Freyn’s question, Galhardir discovered how stupid he had been while answering; he should have known better after the most recent events. "Eh..I mean, what are you referring too?" Galhardir then asked anxiously.

"Seen anything that should make a man like you suspicious?" Galhardir continued then taking a deep breath. "No, not at all," Freyn answered quickly. "I was just thinking, that's all," Freyn then said, smiling. "I don't think you should worry, Freyn," Galhardir said sportingly. "I bet Rôg would have seen right through the Lossoth traders if there were something "odd" about them...." Galhardir then continued.

"Know what I mean?" he then asked, when Freyn didn't answer. "I suppose so," he muttered unwillingly.

Galhardir felt like he had behaved strange and unlike himself. He didn’t know why, and he didn't know how it had come to pass. But all of a sudden, he just felt that nothing mattered anymore. The death of Carandû had made a sudden change in him that no one could have foreseen, and it scared him a bit. He had become unconsiderate and rash, just over night. He pulled himself together, as he saw the barrels.

His forehead was already covered with sweat drops.

[piosenniel]

‘Watch out below!’

There was hardly need to call out the warning. The Lossoth oarsmen rowed hard away from the Elven ship as the barrel broke lose from the winch and plummeted down to the icy waters. For a brief moment it was submersed entirely then bounced up, riding on the waves. It rolled round and round, making it hard to get hold of with the long oars. Once corralled, the ropes were resecured and the barrel hauled upwards again.

Rôg helped to support the runaway barrel as it was taken up to the Elven ship. For a brief moment, the edge of the barrel end rested against his shoulder, near his ear. A frown crossed his face as his ear was pressed against the staves. But the rope tightened, the barrel swung up, and he bent to help secure another barrel.

As the second barrel made its way to the ship’s deck, Rôg bent near Galhardir and whispered a question. ‘Was it my imagination, or did that first barrel seem to be whimpering?’

Galhardir looked oddly at the other man. Rôg shrugged and smiled sheepishly. ‘Perhaps it was just the wood creaking . . .’

[Arry]

Annû was on deck the next day to assist with the barrels. Perhaps I should have stayed below he thought, seeing how others looked away from him, not knowing what to say. For the Elves, it had been a long time since one of their own had died, and in such a brutal manner. And for the Lossoth, it was probably just the fact that they did not feel they knew him well enough to offer their sympathy . . . or perhaps it was simply their custom. He really did not care. Best that all leave him to his own grief.

The barrels were large, too heavy to be picked up and moved. Annû motioned for one of the Lossoth aboard to help him tip them over one at a time and roll each to a place more out of the way of traffic. Most of the barrels had some simple marking on them. In an effort to stack similar goods together, they placed the barrels with similar markings in groups about the deck.

One of the barrels, the first one in fact they'd brough aboard, was unmarked. They rolled it to a nook near the main mast, intending to place any others that were unmarked near it . . .

[Lalwendë]

The noble Elf was standing alone by the rail. He was watching the boats arrive with the goods, and had been on watch since the Lossoth had left the shoreline. Tarn had spotted the figure of the captain almost straight away, standing apart from the others onboard, his eyes trained on the line of boats heading out towards the ship.

Tarn kept a watch upon him as the small boats pulled across the waves, expecting the Elf to move towards the winch and make ready to meet the traders, but he remained motionless. He reminded him of a sea bird, eyes keen for prey, but still and calm on his perch.

In the second boat sailing towards the ship, Tarn helped the oarsman to steer the small craft towards the centre deck, where the winch stood. The great ship made the swell of the waves much larger, and Tarn’s face whitened a little in fear as for a moment he thought they would be swept under the hull by the undertow. But the oarsman was in control and soon lines were being thrown down to secure the smaller craft.

Tarn made sure that the scarf wound about his face was secure. The Elf Captain had now moved towards the winch machinery where all the activity was beginning to take place. He sent others to do his bargaining, and remained on deck to watch. He set to work helping with the winding of the winch handle. Still he remained silent.

Feeling as though those sharp eyes were boring into his own, Tarn turned his face away quickly and not noticing the shouts of the Elves, the falling barrel caught him unawares. The men in the first boat took up their oars quickly and pushed the little vessel away from the winch with all the force they could muster, sending their own boat crashing into Tarn’s. He fell to the bottom of the little boat, jerked from his feet by the bump. As the barrel broke free of its moorings and crashed into the water, it sent up a mighty plume of spray. The boat rocked and was swamped for a moment. Shaking his head, Tarn started to bail the water out furiously.

[Niluial]

Elwë helped the others move the huge barrels, it was a hard job, the barrels wouldn’t budge and they needed three or four elves just to lift one barrel but Elwë’s mind and heart was too heavy, too sad to put all his effort into helping or even worrying about the barrels. He did know he had to move on but Andtuariel meant everything to him, he loved her a lot even though he didn’t admit it. He wouldn’t even dare to think what the Corsairs were doing to her, if he did think of it, horrifying images came to his head… even worse was the thought that she may not even be alive.

He thought back to the evening when everything was perfect; the moon shone brightly in Andtuariel’s cabin and she looked lovely herself. It was the perfect evening Andtuariel had kissed him… He now regretted not telling her that he loved her, he regretted not hugging her and he especially regretted shouting at her all the time. Tears filled up in his eyes as he slowly rolled the next barrel.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth waited inside the barrel as he felt the boat come to a stop in front of the main ship. He could not have been happier to leave his wooden prison. Drenched, cold, and nauseated, Marreth vowed never to travel in barrels again. He had been tossed around, pummeled by waves, and covered in flour, which still stuck to his soaked skin. It would be amazing if he didn’t catch a deadly illness soon after.

With a jolt, Marreth felt his barrel being lifted onboard right after it had been hoisted from the sea andthen rolled over to a spot. He was becoming dizzy, but took some consolation from the fact that he had devised such a perfect plot. He chuckled with glee as he thought that the very people letting him into the Elvish ship were the Elves themselves. With a dull thud, Marreth heard the barrel being set down on the ship’s wooden deck. There was the sound of feet scurrying away then silence.

Slowly, Marreth lifted the lid of the barrel, creating a small space barely large enough for him to look around. He peered out and saw that he was in the middle of a secluded niche, surrounded on three sides by walls. Bit by bit, other barrels containing his comrades were being set down, slowly filling up the deck. In his immediate area, however, he was alone. Marreth felt like jumping out and slitting some Elvish throats, but his common sense prevailed. His purpose here was to sabotage the ship by weakening its mast, inviting the slightest wind to snap it in two.

Marreth knocked cautiously on the side of his barrel, but there was no reply. He cautiously lifted the top an inch more and stared out. Marreth hoped that the Elves, too preoccupied with loading the supplies onto the ship, would fail to notice anything amiss. With all eyes rivetted on the containers still being loaded onto the ship, Marrreth was able to slide his body out of the barrel and then slink down to the floor.

Carefully replacing the top, but leaving a pile of flour in his wake, Marreth crept forward and reached the main mast, which stood strong, reaching high into the salty sea air. After hiding for a moment under a piece of excess sail canvas near the mast, Marreth began his climb. He moved nimbly skyward, clutching the boring instrument firmly in one hand while he scaled the pole. So far, the operation was proceeding flawlessly, and soon it would be complete.

Carefully aiming his tool, Marreth began boring energetically into the mast about half way up. A broad smile was on his face. When he had finished making the tiny whole that went from one side of the mast to the other, he removed a small piece of paper from his pocket and slipped it inside the hole. He was intent on his work, but his attention was suddenly diverted by a loud noise coming from the deck below.....

[Child of the 7th Age]

The last of the barrels had finally been brought aboard. Tarn and Nilak, the two Lossoth in charge of the shipment, had climbed up the side ladder and now stood beside Luindal, waiting for the Elf to sign off on the bargain. The Captain paced up and down the deck counting the number of containers and making sure that they were in good condition.

Coming to the far side of the ship, to the first barrel that had been loaded, he hesitated for a moment. The lid of the container was not secured tightly but seemed askew, as if someone had removed the top and then hastily tried to replace it. On the floor of the nearby deck were puddles of water and what looked to be globs of wet flour. Luindal walked over, tramping through the sodden mess, and leaned over, peering down to the bottom of the barrel. It was barely one-third full.

"Is this what you've sold us? Half-empty boxes?" The Elf turned towards Tarn with a look of displeasure on his face. "We paid for a full shipment. How many more are like this?" Remembering the warning that Rôg had brought him earlier, Luindal wondered if the Corsairs had tampered with their supplies, or if there was another explanation for this. His fingers strayed imperceptibly to the hilt of his sword.

When the Lossoth failed to answer, Luindal hurried over to the next batch of supplies, a scowl set firmly on his face, as he handed Rôg and Freyn heavy metal levers, asking them to wrench off the lids. The two immediately went to work, each on a different box. The first ones were opened with little fanfare. But as they began tearing off the tops of barrels three and four, the containers themselves began to rattle slightly as if there was something inside trying to move about. Rôg and Freyn exchanged puzzled glances.

Luindal opened his mouth to give orders to surround and wrestle the barrels to the ground when, high above, from the central mast, a voice rang out, "Get out mates! We've been discovered. Time for us to leave....."

A dozen barrels or more shook ominously as lids popped off. Luindal snapped an order as his followers charged forward with swords and daggers raised to try and keep the Corsairs from escaping.

[Arry]

Once the barrels had been brought on board, Annû had taken up a position on the quarterdeck, intending to keep a close watch on the proceedings. So far, nothing seemed amiss. The captain was with two of the Lossoth who had brought the barrels from the mainland, and was looking displeased. He had pried the top off one of the barrels – the one they’d stack by itself. Annû could see him gesturing and shaking his head at the two Lossoth. The stances of the two native traders stiffened as the captain handed a tool to two of his crew member, indicating they should pry open the other barrels.

A shout rang out from somewhere above and all at once a number of Corsairs clambered from the barrels they’d been hiding in, weapons drawn. Annû fired a number of arrows at them, nicking several in the arms. The foe was moving about quickly, heading for the sides of the ship. Annû fired several more arrows, most causing only minor wounds, but one sunk deep into the fleshy thigh of a Corsair.

Luindal had drawn his sword, and Annû could see the two traders start back a few steps then look menacingly at him. He could not get a good shot at them. Slinging his bow on his back, Annû drew his brother's sword and leapt down to where the captain stood against the two. The tip of his blade was leveled at one of the men’s chests. An older fellow, his dark hair gone grey at the temples. The fellow’s dark blue eyes widened at the presence of the second Elf. Then he scowled, squinting fiercely at Annû.

A certain rage boiled up inside the Elf, and he pressed forward, intending to run the man through. But the Lossoth feinted quickly to one side and knocked the blade away with his much padded arm. The sharp want of revenge mixed with the memories of his brother. Annû wanted to pound this Corsair sympathizer into dust. Rage rising further, he dropped his blade on the deck and stepped in close to the man, fists balled.

Grey eyes flashing in his stony face, Annû felt a stab of satisfaction as his knuckles collided with the man’s nose . . .

[Niluial]

BANG! The noise didn’t scare Elwë, nothing did and nothing could. He had changed, he didn’t care about his life any longer, or even the Palantiri, only about his precious stone, Andtuariel. His eyes were cold and hard like ice, filled with hate and revenge. As the bang had happened Corsairs scramble from the barrels they had been hiding in. They drew their weapons with evil looking smirks on their scarred faces.

Elwë exploded, he charged at the Corsairs shooting his arrows at them, one of which pierced a Corsair's dirty skin. He found pleasure in watching the Corsair fall to the ground. Elwë glanced at Annû who’s eyes were also filled with the same anger and hate. They both smiled at each other, not a loving smile nor a caring smile but a smile that almost said charge, fight and if I die, it was nice knowing you.

Corsairs charged at him, hitting him with their pointed weapons. They smelt dirty and looked it too. Elwë’s hands were stained with a mixture of his blood and the corsairs blood. He had been stabbed in the side with a pocket knife, but it was numb, he couldn’t feel it, but it bled a lot.

[piosenniel]

Rôg jumped back involuntarily as the barrels erupted with fleeing Corsairs. They looked like so many rats as they scurried to get off the ship. Well-armed rats, that is. And here he stood with only a short crowbar in one hand and a hammer in the other – the tools he’d just used to take off a few of the barrel heads.

His first thought was simply to crouch down behind the barrels that had not been knocked over and wait for the wave of Southrons to pass him by. And to be honest his knees, of their own volition, buckled and plunked him down behind two of the still standing barrels. The gap between the two barrels afforded him a limited view of what was happening. Legs and torsos of Corsairs could be seen running and stopping as they encountered the ship’s crew. The shiny blades of both sets of combatants could be seen and heard swishing through the air; glinting metal arcing back and forth; clanging loudly as one met the other.

Rôg dared a peek over the barrel top. There was Annû, near the Captain. He’d thrown down his blade and was swinging at one of the Lossoth who’d come over with the barrels. A murderous rage was in his eyes. Luindal was chasing, now, after one of the other Lossoth, his blade held high.

‘Courage, man,’ Rôg admonished himself with a dry whisper. He stood up completely, his jellied knees firming up at his command. One of the Corsairs ran by his barrels making for the side of the ship the cargo boats were on. Rôg ran out, his tools turned weapons gripped tight in his fists; his arms swinging in mad arcs as he raced after the man. He yelled as his feet propelled him along.

‘Run, you scurvy southron sea dog! Or feel the wrath of one whose clan you’ve oppressed too long!’

The Corsair was mystified as he heard the battle cry and peered behind him. Rôg’s hammer went whizzing past his ear; the little skinchanger had not the eye for hitting a moving target. The Corsair smirked, his mouth twisting into a leering grin.

‘Well, then,’ cried Rôg, his cloak streaming behind him as he ran faster. ‘Feel this!’

A mighty swing of the crowbar connected with the side of the Corsair’s left knee, a satisfying crunch and a howl of pain following it. The Corsair fell, rolling the few feet to the side of the ship and through the gap between the deck and the ship’s railing. He clung to the edge of the ship, trying to save himself from a fall into the icy water. Rôg, by this time, meant to finish him off. He gave a sound thwack! of the heavy crowbar across the man’s knuckles. A splash finished this little skirmish and Rôg turned to see how else he might help.

[Lalwendë]

Lost for words when the tall Elf captain challenged him about the state of the goods, Tarn had simply stood and stared at him as though he had not quite heard what he said. It was one of the worst things he could have done; the captain was instantly suspicious and Tarn noticed his hand move towards the sword at his side. Standing as still as he could, his thoughts were confused by the realisation that he had made an error in not speaking to the captain. A chill ran down his spine as he stood motionless, frantically trying to think about what he ought to do now. The captain had taken the measure of him and had not been fooled.

From somewhere above, came the voice of Marreth and suddenly Corsairs were swarming around and the Elves, alert, were drawing weapons. The ringing of steel as it was drawn by seemingly every hand, was loud and Tarn realised he had only his knife. He lifted his hand, reaching for the inside pocket of his coat. But before he could pull out the blade, the tip of a sword was pointed at his chest, preventing Tarn’s hand from getting anywhere near his pockets.

A feeling of panic quickly gave way to rage and Tarn glared at the Elf who clearly intended to kill him. His look was one of defiance and he ducked quickly sideways, With a thrust of his forearm as he moved, he knocked the blade away and squared himself up, to run or to fight. The sudden movement knocked the scarf from his face, and it hung about his chin limply. The Elf came towards him in a rush, anger boiling in his face. Tarn made ready to fight and drew back his powerful arm, ready to knock the sense from this Elf.

Before he could move any further, he heard a cracking noise as though his skull was splitting open. Burning pain spread through his head and he reeled backwards, blood pouring into the back of his throat. He bent double, retching, and spat it out on the deck. Instinctively, he reached up his hand and he felt the mess on his face and knew his nose had been broken again.

Pain and anger came together and the vision of the elf in front of him seemed red. Whether the vision was coloured with blood or with rage, Tarn could not have said, for he was entirely gripped with the need to hurt this Elf, who seemed to be coming in with another swing at him. Stepping back again, to give himself the room to recover, Tarn saw that the Elf was relentless, moving towards him again, filled with the same anger which he himself was feeling. He knew an opponent filled with the same fury could be dangerous, whatever their size.

Coughing with the suffocating blood which was pouring into his mouth, Tarn suddenly turned and ran up the steps to the foredeck. This only tricked the elf for a moment, but it gave Tarn enough time to draw the scarf back around his face. He needed to stop the blood flow and soak it up as he was now choking badly. With the blood soaking into the cloth, he could now breathe at least. He got to the top of the steps, steadying himself on the hand rail. But instead of carrying on forwards, as the Elf expected, he stopped. Twisting round, he let out a great roar and launched his foot at the pursuing Elf. The kick was fierce, meeting the Elf full in the stomach. He doubled up and fell down backwards with a groan. Tarn’s kick had been so forceful that when his foot met no further resistance, it continued forwards for a moment, and he stumbled onto the deck himself.

[Arry]

Get up, little brother! You’ll not let this puny son of the snow best you!

Annû rolled to his knees, his brother’s words ringing in his ears. Or rather, the remembrance of similar words, urging him on in various seamen’s taverns when cups too numerous had been drunk, and a jest of Carandu’s taken ill. ‘Well, at least, I’m not drunk,’ he thought, heaving himself to his feet. His gut, tight with pain from the Lossoth’s kick, protested the move; he gagged back the bile rising in his throat.

‘Up, you dark hearted dog!’ Annû growled as reached down with his left hand. Grabbing the man by his weathered overcoat, he hauled him to his feet. For a brief moment his hard grey eyes sought to pierce the other’s, wondering how low this specimen of man had sunk. ‘Shadow scum!’ he spat out, pushing the man roughly back in disgust. The man squinted at Annû, his blue eyes glinting with a feral light. The Elf could smell the thick, heavy smell of congealing blood coming from him; that stain on the scarf he wore about his face already turning dark in the air.

The Elf moved in closer to the man. His fists were balled, and he made a series of feints countered easily by the Lossoth. The man was a skilled fighter, taking the opportunity to jab the Elf hard followed by a cross punch to the jaw with his right fist. At one point, Annû reeled back from a particularly hard blow, head ringing. Shaking his head to bring the multiple images of the Lossoth into focus, Annû rushed at the man, grabbing him about the neck with his left arm and delivering a series of jabs to his face and chest. He could feel the man’s body slacken against him, as if he were about to collapse. Annû loosened his grip, thinking to let the man fall.

Against his left side, he felt the sharp, cold point of the man’s knife as it touched his skin . . .

[Orofaniel]

‘Was it my imagination, or did that first barrel seem to be whimpering?’

Why hadn't he seen it before? Why hadn't he taken Rôg's suspicion seriously?

There was no time to think; this was the time for actions. What was he going to do? All of a sudden there had been an amount of Corsairs popping out from the barrels. How does one respond to that? He didn't have any weapons available, and he didn't know how to fight without a weapon. Then he remembered that he didn't really know how to fight at all. He had never been a fighter, at least not a good one.

Suddenly an arrow passed him. Even though it wasn't even close of hitting him, he knew somehow that the Corsair would try again. He searched for cover, but he didn’t seem to find any. He ran across the deck, as he saw a sword lying on the ground. It had belonged to the enemy, but obviously the owner had let it go for some reason. He picked it up, and he didn't have the time to get used to it, before a horrifying surprise, enough to scare anyone, was waiting for him; Two Corsairs, one with a bow ready to shoot, and another with a sword. Galhardir gasped. He gasped for air. He felt as I he couldn’t breathe properly. His legs felt weak and numb. He couldn’t collect his thoughts and the dizziness he felt made it difficult for him to stand up properly. It was as if he was only a shadow of himself. He held the sword tight. The sweat in his palms was making it difficult though for him to fasten his grip.

The sword hewed towards the enemy, but it didn't hit anyone. The next thing he knew was the arrow. It had gone off; the enemy had shot him. The arrow had hit him in the arm. As painful as it was, he struggled not to scream. Luckily it hadn't hit the arm he was holding his sword so he would still be able to fight - or try to fight.

"Give it up," the Corsair hissed.

[Lalwendë]

It was that rare thing, a fair fight. This Elf was a match for him. No simple blow to the chin would bring this one down. Tarn’s rage deepened into a kind of desperation and the world shrank away so there was only this struggle, which he must win at all costs. He ducked the fists which were thrown at him and with lightning speed managed to connect with the jaw of the Elf, who staggered away from him.

Thoughts of triumph started to enter his mind, and a smirk began to spread across his broad face. And then the Elf hurled himself forwards and taking Tarn unawares, grabbed him about the neck and pummelled his fists into Tarn’s chest. Tarn struggled, but try as he might, he could not get his hand about the Elf’s strong left arm to break his hold. The blows rained down faster than he could breathe and his chest tightened up quickly. His vision stared to blur and his frantic struggling started to slow down. He could not even manage to cough between the relentless rhythm of the hits he was taking and he felt as though pins were being stuck into his ribs. He could not feel his feet or hands and became almost calm.

Not like this, he thought to himself, managing to take a breath as the Elf started to punch his face instead. No, this was like drowning. This was what he did to others. No-one would do this to him. Not to Tarn.

His arm dropped from the Elf’s shoulder where he had placed it in an effort to shake off that powerful grip. It was limp, but not useless, and Tarn, taking another breath, slid his hand into his coat and withdrew the knife. As the Elf stood back to drop what he thought was an unconscious man to the deck, he got a nasty surprise.

Tarn pushed the knife as firmly as he could into the Elf’s flank, pushed through his jerkin until he felt it give way in the flesh, jerked it roughly, and pulled it out again. Tarn, exhausted, and still gasping for breath, then dropped to the deck where he sat in a heap and laughed as the Elf, his eyes wide as he saw the knife, staggered backwards.

The Elf fell down opposite Tarn, clutching his side, his breathing laboured. Tarn, wheezing, examined the tip of the serrated blade, and then looked deep into the eyes of the Elf. They were defiant but misty with pain. Those eyes widened as they went to the knife, not only covered in Elven blood, but grisly with remains of rotten reindeer flesh, flecks of something black, and threads of old twine.

Tarn lightly touched the tip of the blade, gently pulling it towards him, and then let go. The blade sprang back, splattering the Elf’s face with a mixture of his own blood and the foul remains which must by now have entered his body through the wound he had just received. “Feeling sick are we?” gasped Tarn, laughing wheezily. “ Should really…” Tarn could barely finish what he wanted to say. He spluttered and spat out more blood, which was almost black and very thick. “Ought to keep it cleaner, that knife.” He didn’t have a chance to see the reaction of the Elf as another fit of coughing took him and he doubled over with the pain which returned to grab his chest with a vengeance.

[piosenniel]

Rôg spied Galhardir attempting to look a great deal braver than he felt. He understood the feeling and recognized the signs. The sword in the Lossoth’s hand was wavering and beneath the grim face he’d put on, the skin was blanched white. And then, of course, there was the added problem of the pain from the arrow. Rôg could see how the Lossoth favored his leg. He was sure to fall soon. The Corsair with the blade had advanced closer to Galhardir, the fellow with the bow had already turned and run for the side of ship, attempting to get off as his captain had ordered.

‘Give it up!’ Rôg heard the Corsair hiss at Galhardir. A leering grin on his face, the Corsair drew closer to the man, knocking the sword easily from the Lossoth’s hands.

‘No . . . you give it up!’ yelled Rôg, running up behind the Corsair, his weapon swinging in an arc. This time the crowbar connected with the side of the intended target’s head, knocking him unconscious to the deck. The clatter of metal against the wooden deck made Rôg look round. Galhardir had collapsed on the deck, his leg bleeding. Rôg crouched down beside him.

‘Can you make it over there?’ he asked, pointing toward the hatchway stairs that led into the interior of the ship. The man nodded, yes, and Rôg motioned for him to make haste. But Galhardir put his hand on Rôg’s sleeve and pointed toward the stairway to the quarterdeck. Annû had just collapsed as had the man he’d apparently been fighting. Another Lossoth . . . Annû’s face was battered and a sickly shade of grey; his hands clutched at his side, blood welling up between his fingers. The Lossoth opposite him laughed, his knife held up to taunt the Elf.

‘Can you manage on that leg at all?’ Rôg asked Galhardir. The Lossoth flexed his leg, grimacing, but indicated he could still use it. ‘I’ll distract that Lossoth fellow – you grab Annû and get him to safety down below.

~*~

The small, blue-grey merlin (http://www.carolinaraptorcenter.org/images/merlin.jpg) circled once above the Lossoth holding the knife. Legs extended, he dove down from behind him, his sharp talons tearing into the man’s skull. He beat at him with his wings and tore at his ear with his strong, curved beak.

The man lurched to his feet, beating at the demon who besieged him, and stumbled toward the ship's railing, blood streaming down his face from the cuts on his head . . .

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Lalwendë's post

As if the pain in his chest were not bad enough, a sudden searing pain gripped Tarn’s head and he couldn’t help but let out a loud groan. He put his hands up to the top of his head, to find his hair matted with fresh blood. Clumps of hair and skin fell away in his fingers. But what was the shrieking noise? He thought he was going mad, or that maybe he had died and was meeting some kind of dark devil. He opened his eyes and looked up, just in time to see the blur of wings and claws swooping down at him for another attack.

Putting his head down just in time, he attempted to cover it with his hands, to protect it from another attack. But this thing was relentless. It wanted to hurt him. Whatever he did to cover his head, it was determined.

He felt a surge of pain at the side of his head and fell sideways. Looking up, he saw a Merlin with a piece of his ear in its beak, and he almost fainted. Covering his eyes with one hand, he lashed out wildly with the other. He hit nothing but air, the bird was too swift for his confused, half-conscious flailing. Staggering to his feet, almost falling back down again, he lurched towards the side of the ship, blinded by madness and fear.

Ripped apart, with a broken nose and ribs, missing part of his ear and bleeding profusely, Tarn collapsed over the railing at the very edge of the deck. His arm caught in the rigging and prevented his half conscious body from falling into the icy waters. As he hung there, the ship tossed about on the waves and a plume of spray splashed his face, waking him from his nightmare. He opened his eyes and heard the voice of Marreth, urging the other men to escape.

[Orofaniel]

After being hit in the arm by the Corsair's arrow, he'd fallen, and hurt his foot as well. It was bleeding heavily by the time Rôg had rescued him from the bloodthirsty Corsair.

Meanwhile he spotted Annû, who was also lying on the ground after a fight with one of the enemies. Galhardir felt uneasy and wanted to hurry over to help him, but he couldn't. His leg felt stiff and the pain was aching, and it was torturing the poor man. At the same time, he had forgotten about the arrow that had hit his arm. He could only feel the blood flowing from that wound as the pain had disappeared, or just forgotten in all the chaos. Slowly, Galhardir finally managed to get up with a little help from Rôg.

Galhardir halted towards Annû closely following Rôg with his eyes. "Hurry Annû!" Galhardir whispered and took him by the arm. Annû followed and together they made it down below without great difficulties. Of course, both of them were badly hurt, but together they were stronger than one would have thought in the first place. In Annû’s room both of them felt exhausted and said little. Galhardir was still shocked by having his enemies so close. They had surprised them once and for all. This surprise wasn't highly appreciated. They were both tending their wounds, examining their injuries; The wound on Galhardir's arm was not bleeding anymore. Instead there was a thick mass of dried blood that was covering the wound, but while cleaning if off, it started to bleed again. It was in fact deeper than he thought at first. The bandage was luckily close at hand, and Galhardir managed to tend it as good as he possibly could. Then the leg remained. Even though he was still bleeding heavily this wasn't such a major injure. He would be able to walk properly on his leg within a couple of days, or so he expected.

Annû poor thing had some pretty nasty bruises which probably would last for quite some time. Galhardir asked him, when he was finished tending his own wounds, if Annû needed some help. Annû smiled but told him that he would manage on his own.

Just as this had been said, Galhardir could hear from above that the Corsairs were feeling…”About time,” he said angrily.

[Imladris]

The elf buttoned her lips and sat up a little straighter. Jynne sighed, and eyed the liquid filled goblet. "Elf," he said silkily, "I would highly recommend you tell me what I want to know."

"I do not fear pain," she said stiffly. "Or anything else you have to offer."

Jynne smiled thinly. "Whoever said anything about pain?"

Her face paled, yet a spark of hope flickered for an instant in her blue eyes.

"Do you see this goblet, elf?" he asked, drifting it in front of her nose. "This goblet is full of wine...no doubt your kind would consider it crude...but it is fine quality aboard ship."

She licked her lips. Jynne figured she would be thirsty. Extended stays on salt water had a tendency to do that.

"In this wine, however, there is a fine poison...it is deadly, however," he said, looking at her with a sort of sinister puppy eyes. "It is also relatively painless. If you do not give me the information I want, I will force this down your throat. There you will be faced the dread knowledge that you will die...and not face the doom of elvenkind. In a way," he said in a musing voice, "I'm glad I did not give this to Jarlyn as it would not have the same affect mentall on him as it would you..." he tapped his temple meaningfully.

The door crashed open, and Diera flew into the room. "So it has been you that has been making Jarlyn sick...I am sure that Marreth would be very interested in hearing this news." She smiled viciously.

Jynne sniffed. He tried to remember why he had been poisoning Jynne in the first place....ah yes...so that he could gain Marreth's trust. Pity the plan had failed miserable. As he licked his lips, he drew his dagger and flung it at Diera's chest. He could almost see the poison spread through her veins as she stumbled backwards, her hands clutching the hilt of the dagger.

[Regin Hardhammer]

As soon as the fighting had begun, Marreth had climbed down the mast as quickly as he could and joined in the fray. His own work was done. He had cleverly bored through the wood leaving a well concealed hole that none of the Elves should be able to see. The next time Luindal went sailing and a stiff wind blew up, the mast should snap in half and leave him helpless to sail any further.

Just let the Elves go out and pull up one of the Stones from the depths of the Bay, Marreth would be waiting nearby and kindly relieve him of the prize. Just to make sure that Luindal would know who’d done this to them, Marreth had left a little note tied onto the lower portion of the mast with his signature prominently displayed in bold letters.

Too bad their little ploy had been discovered. His men might have caused more havoc by emerging from the barrels after the Elves had put them on one of the lower decks and then retired for the night. But now that he’d finished his chore, their real job was done, and they needed to leave the ship.

Marreth signaled to the men to retreat and go immediately for the shore. One of Luindal’s Lossoth allies had scuttled their small boats so they would have to swim for it. That shouldn’t be too hard. They were fairly close to the beach. The only problem was the bitter cold waters. But they should be able to make it and warm themselves by the hot fires and by changing into dry clothing.

Some of the men had been injured, but even these were managing to make it over the side of the ship and swim to shore with the aid of their comrades. The one who looked to be in worst shape was Tarn. This was the Lossoth who had helped him set up this little operation and Marreth had no intention of leaving him behind if he could help it. Tarn had staggered over to the railing and was barely standing upright.

Quickly, Marreth retreated to the side railing and put his arm around Tarn’s shoulders, supporting his sagging body. He yelled out an order to another Corsair to hurl one of the half empty barrels down into the Bay. Fighting off the others with his free arm, he managed to climb over the rail. The two slipped together into the water with Marreth continuing to hold onto Tarn. “Here, grab onto the barrel stave as hard as you can,” he shouted at the Lossoth above the noise of battle. Marreth took off his belt and tied one end about Tarn’s shoulder and the other onto a half loose stave to make sure the wounded man would not let go.

Amid a volley of arrows, Marreth climbed up on the barrel and managed to grab one of the poles they’d brought on the small boats that was now floating in the water. He bagan paddling furiously for shore, keeping his head as low as he could. Once more, Marreth’s luck held. Despite the arrows whizzing through the air, the Corsair received only one cut on his upper arm as the sharp edge sliced through his doublet but then buried itself in the wood of the barrel instead of his own body, or that of Tarn. It was not long before they reached the shore. Some of the men left behind were waiting there with thick fur hides and blankets. They had sledges drawn by deer which took them immediately back to the ship where there was hot drinks and healing herbs as well as beds to rest. Marreth immediately asked the cabin boy to go get Diera so he could tell her what had happened and find out how Jarlyn was doing.

[Kitanna]

After the Corsairs were discovered a battle on the Elven ship began. Nilak had done little in the way of fighting. At first he did what he could to make sure the Corsairs were out of the barrels. He wouldn't want any to be left behind by themself. During the battle Sernir had stayed close to Nilak. Probably using me as a human shield, Nilak thought, but Sernir did watch his back.

Nilak took a few punches from the angry Elves and the Lossoth allies, but he just punched right back. Somewhere between taking and giving hits Nilak turned to see Tarn being attacked by a bird of prey.

He tried to come to Tarn's aid, but he heard Marreth urging them to escape. The Corsairs jumped over the side of the ship. Nilak would have joined them, but he felt the need to get Tarn first. He stopped when he saw Marreth helping Tarn over the edge and into the icy water. Nilak leapt over the rail and into the water. He swam alongside the Corsairs toward the shore as arrows from the ship rained down on them.

Once on shore Nilak was given a fur blanket to warm himself. He had someone help him back to his hut where he started a fire and changed into dry clothes. He fell asleep not long after.

[piosenniel]

The Corsairs had left the Elven vessel. Captain Luindal called for those of the crew who were not injured to go in groups of three and check that there were none of the Southrons or their allies hiding yet on the ship. The small patrols swept the Sea-Spirit from stem to stern, reporting back to the Captain, at last, that all was safe and secure.

‘There are a few of the crew with scrapes and bruises,’ one of the Elves reported. ‘Annû, though,’ chimed in his companion, ‘seems quite beat up.’ The Elf grinned, and Luindal looked at him questioningly. ‘He says we should have seen the other fellow!’ The first Elf nodded his head, but added with a note of concern. ‘He waved us off when we asked if he needed a healer to see to him. Said it was just some bruising and nothing to be done about it. Said he’d be fine.’

Luindal organized the crew to clear away the mess made on the deck when the barrels had opened and the Corsairs burst from them. They salvaged what goods they could, stacked the staves of the broken barrels below in the hold for further use, and checked the ship for any damage needing repair. ‘The Corsairs had been in such a hurry to flee that there had not been enough time for them to accomplish any real mischief,’ the crew reported.

The Captain thanked them for their thoroughness then ordered all to attend to their wounds if they had sustained any, take their meal, and rest until the next day. The Sea-Spirit would put into the bay to search beneath the water for the palantiri.

~*~

On the way to his cabin, Luindal found Rôg, crowbar still in hand. The man held it up, grinning. ‘Not only a useful tool, my dear friend,’ Rôg said, waving it in the air, ‘but a useful weapon as well for cracking the heads and knees of Corsairs.’

‘If I didn’t know you better, I would say you enjoyed that encounter,’ the Captain commented, motioning for his friend to accompany him to his quarters.

‘Not enjoyed, really,’ Rôg said, his face now more serious in its demeanor. ‘But there was a certain satisfaction in driving the scum from the ship.’ He entered the cabin as Luindal held open the door. ‘So, the plans we’ve discussed,’ he went on, shoving a few books, maps, and the odd piece of clothing from one of the more comfortable chairs in an effort to find somewhere to plop his tired body. ‘We’ll put them in motion . . . tomorrow . . .?’

[Arry]

With the help of Galhardir, Annû had made it to his room. A fierce, generalized ache and hurt had begun to assail him where the traitorous Lossoth had landed his hard blows, and already the purplish spread of new bruises had begun to creep across the pummeled areas. He would be sore for a while, but the bruises would fade, the ache recede, in time. What worried him the most was the wound from the man’s knife.

With careful fingers, he peeled off the temporary bandage Galhardir had applied, a wadding of clean rags bound on with the belt Annû wore. The flow of blood from the wound had slowed to an occasional oozing. It was not a large cut nor had it gone in particularly deep he saw, as he twisted this way and that to see it in the room’s small mirror. But even this soon the edges of it looked red and angry, and the serous fluid did not run clear but was tinged with a yellow color. He cleaned it as best he could, with water from the jug and a rag. Some folded strips from an old clean towel served as a bandage, with one longer band of it to tie about him. Fishing through his pack he found a soft, loose tunic to pull on.

His movements were stiff from his bruises and the wound, but he steeled himself against the hurt, and walked carefully to the galley to find food and drink. Many of the crew were already there. He nodded to those who called out to him and passed by them as quickly as he could. Taking a bowl of the inevitable chowder, a chunk of ship’s bread, and a mug of tea, he made his solitary way back to his quarters.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Luindal nodded in agreement and then beckoned Rôg towards the table in the center of the cabin where maps and scrolls were haphazardly strewn. “I didn’t have a chance to show you this before, but this is where we need to search.” He pointed to a spot on Cirdan’s map that was highlighted with a small circle. Rôg could see that this location was not far from a lengthy sandbar that stretched along the eastern side of the Bay in relatively shallow waters. “But how do you know for sure?” Rôg queried.

Luindal handed a parchment to his friend and explained. “I don’t know for sure, but read this and see what you think. When I first arrived, the Elders presented me with a document penned in an ancient Lossoth tongue, hoping it would aid our search. The words were inscribed on deer hide and described what happened the day the Elven ship sank. The hide sat on a shelf in the Hall of Elders for countless years and was totally forgotten until this latest threat. Few among the Snowmen could even read the old script, but Alahseey had been taught as a child at her great-grandmother's knee. After our arrival in the Bay, she spent many hours translating it and filling in as many missing parts as she could.

Rôg’s eyes scanned the sheet quickly. Then he looked up at Luindal. “I see. With the water so shallow, the sandbar iced over early in the year. When the wind picked up, the Elven craft lurched closer to shore and collided with the ice, crushing the hull.”

“I would agree,” countered the Elf. “Cirdan’s map of the Bay when placed beside the account of the Lossoth suggests that this is probably what happened. If that is true, we need to search just west of the bar. Lucky for us, it is still there after all these years and not frozen over yet.”

“But so close to a sandbar and in shallow waters?”

Luindal sighed. “In one way, this should make it easier to pull up the Stones, since the shallow water would be less frigid than the depths of the Bay. But, to begin, I would suggest we leave the Spirit a ways away and approach the area where we plan to dive with smaller boats. If we find the small stone first, we can just retrieve it with the small boats. If it is the larger one, then we have a problem. We cannot get the larger palantir off the bottom of the Bay and lift it up without a winch. Even aside from the winch, its size and weight would swamp any of the smaller boats. We'll have to sail the Spirit closer, hopefully on the western side furthest from the sandbar.”

“A tricky piece of sailing,” Rôg observed.

“Tricky indeed. Let’s just hope the weather holds. Or tricky may become close to impossible! Now get to bed and tell the others to do the same. We’ll need all our wits and strength in the morning. And make sure to bring along those air bladders and special diving suits.”

[Lalwendë]

The dreamless darkness slowly subsided and Tarn awoke from the deep sleep he had fallen into. His eyes had been wiped clean of the blood which had streamed across them and set hard, but some of the congealed blood was still stuck to his eyelashes and he winced as he opened his eyelids. Automatically, he lifted his hand to his face to pick the bloody coating off and he let out a low, hissing gasp as he felt the pain searing across his chest.

He reached to touch the place where he had felt the pain, and found that his coat and layers of sweaters had been removed and replaced with a cotton shirt. He felt inside the shirt and found that his ribs had been tightly bandaged with strips of linen cloth. Who had done this? And where was he? A sense of panic rose and he almost screamed aloud with pain as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He looked about him and saw that he was in a small, low ceilinged cabin; he heard water and realised he must be on a ship.

Tarn’s eyes widened as the frightening thought came to him that the Elves may have taken him captive. Looking round, he saw a door, and it did not look locked. He had to get out of there, whatever the pain he might feel, whatever the cost to his strength. But he could not see his normal clothes, and in particular his coat, which contained his only weapon, the knife. He felt dizzy, but he could not give in and lie back down. From what he had heard, these Elves disappeared over the seas from time to time and were never heard of again. That was not going to happen to him, of this he was determined.

Putting his feet to the floor, he was relieved to find at least his boots had not been removed. He lifted up the mattress of the bunk he had been lying on, but his personal effects were not concealed under there. He scanned the room and could find no cubby holes. Then, bending down to examine some of the panelling, he stumbled giddily and crashed into the wall with a great racket.

“Ho! What’s going on in there?” boomed a loud voice. Angry footsteps came rapidly towards the door and then it was flung open. A large, bearded man with blackened, frostbitten fingers stood there, glaring at Tarn. “What are you doing, man? Are you a fool?” he roared.

“Regan!” gasped Tarn, clutching the edge of the bunk, to keep himself steady. “Where am I? I thought I was going off to some Elven prison. Am I on Marreth’s ship?”

“And where else might you be? “ said the man with a grim, short laugh. “Think Corsairs abandon their own do you?”

“But I…”

“Enough, you fool. You are one of our own, or so says I. A man who is decent enough to rescue me, I will make sure he gets the best of care. And besides, the Captain himself bore you back to shore, strapped over a barrel, like a bloody haunch of meat.”

Regan was bluff, but it was his way. Tarn appreciated and understood it. He was feeling pain, but no agony would grip him so hard that he could not still present himself as a tough and resilient man. Regan had bandaged and bathed Tarn himself, he saw it as a return of the favour, the right thing to do for a comrade in arms.

“You’ve a fair souvenir there,” said Regan, laughing grimly again. “Have you seen yourself?” Tarn had not seen the full extent of his injuries. He remembered the broken nose, and the cracked ribs, but the injuries inflicted by the maniacal bird had slipped from his mind, so delirious had he been during the attack.

“Follow me”, said Regan. He did not offer a helpful arm to Tarn, that would be going too far. But at least he walked slowly from the cabin and up the gangway towards the mess room. Once there, he pointed to a mirror on the wall, and Tarn, swallowing hard, looked up at his reflection nervously. He saw the bruises on his face first, but then turning slightly to one side, saw that a chunk of the top of his ear was missing, the gash crudely stitched together. He leaned forwards to take a closer look and examined himself as any dandy might examine himself in a new suit of clothes. A slight smile crept across his face.

“That’s a corker, aint it?” said Regan. “A real beauty”. Tarn laughed as hard as he could and agreed that it was a spectacular injury. The broken nose was nothing new, he’d snap it back in place when he had the nerve. But this, it was a truly impressive wound. He admired himself once more and sank down onto a bench as the pain surged through his ribs once more.

[piosenniel]

Even before the sun was up, Luindal came knocking at Rôg’s door, and finding it unlocked, entered. ‘I thought you wanted our wits about us! Mine don’t gather until the day’s light is over the horizon!’ Luindal chuckled as Rôg sat up, knuckling the sleep from his eyes. ‘What’s that in your hand, you pushy Elf?’ Rog got up out of bed, the sheet wrapped round him. ‘It’s tea, and laced with honey. I can smell it.’ He held out his hand and wiggled his fingers at the Captain. ‘Come on. Give it over! And it better be strong if you’re expecting me to even dip one toe in that icy water!’

Two cups of strong tea later followed by a quick bowl of porridge, and Rôg was ready to go. He’d been up late into the previous night checking on the equipment they would need. Two nets – one small to accommodate the small sphere; a larger one to secure around the bigger palantiri. Rôg had gotten one of the Lossoth to help sew a tight fitting suit of seal skins for Luindal. With a thick coating of bear grease applied over his entire body before donning the suit, the captain should be fairly insulated against the cold. And finally, there were several airbladders sewn from sealskins, the seams sealed with pitch. They were blown up with air and tied off tightly to be used as floats.

‘You shouldn’t have to be in the water very long,’ Rôg said to Luindal as they walked up to the quarterdeck. The First Mate had already given the order to weigh anchor. The ship was on its way toward the sandbar that had been identified in the Lossoth document. ‘I’ll do the diving; all you have to do is be ready to secure whatever stone we find with the net and clip the net to the ropes that hang from the airbladders. They’ll show where the globe is while we move in with one of the longboats to hoist it in.’

The Sea-Spirit drew in as close as she could to the sandbar. It would not serve to have her run aground, so she anchored a little west of the area they planned to search. Two longboats set out from the ship. One with Rôg and the Captain in it, along with two Lossoth to row and two armed Elves. The other boat held most of the equipment and several more armed Elves.

It was only a short distance to the area just off the sandbar that Luindal wanted to explore. Rôg threw off his robe and slipped into the water his now sleek body pushing itself gracefully beneath the low lapping waves. He arched back up toward the surface and peeked his head back up to where Luindal looked over the side of the boat. ‘Get going!’ Luindal hissed as the seal regarded him with his large dark eyes. The captain scratched his chest, squirming a little in his suit. ‘This . . . thing . . . you’ve outfitted me with is beginning to get rather aromatic . . . if you catch my drift.’

Rôg twitched his whiskers and grinned, slapping a foreflipper on the water’s surface. ‘I’ve not only caught your drift, but so have the others, apparently.’ He nodded his nose to where the others in the boat had drawn up their scarves about their noses. ‘You’ll notice they’ve positioned the end of the boat your in, downwind from them!’ Before Luindal could make a rejoinder, Rôg dove beneath the water and began his search . . .

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth awoke and glanced out of his window. He caught a glimpse of the Elven ship searching for the Stones once more. He smirked with glee while envisioning their mast snapping off, stranding the Elves in the middle of the bay.

Marreth recalled in a haze the unsettling events of the night before: finding the body of his trusted friend slumped over on the deck of the ship, limp and already going cold. The sight had stunned and shocked him so that he did not know what to do. Diera had been one of the most trusted officers who had ever served him. Who could have done such an abominable deed? And how had they managed to do so unnoticed?

Arising from his bed, Marreth decided to return to the body and see if he could gather any clues. Scanning the still body, he noticed the jagged line of the gash, red and inflamed even in death. He bent down to examine it more closely, as his nose picked up the acrid stench of poison. Marreth roared with anger when he realized what must have occurred. He longed to get out on the Bay so his men could get ready to attack the Elven ship as soon as its mast snapped, but this was a matter of even greater importance. No captain who failed to discipline his crew would ever survive.

“Jynne, Jynne,” he bellowed to the cabin boy, “Get Jynne over here instantly. I must talk to him.” The boy nodded and scuttled away, but then returned in a few moments shaking his head and reporting that Jynne had been in his cabin, but had stubbornly told him he was busy and would report when he got around to it.

Marreth bristled and then stormed off in the direction of Jynne's cabin. This betrayal within his own crew infuriated him more than all of his previous failed plans and bad luck finding the Palantiri. Heads were going to roll for this, most certainly Jynne’s.

Coming to Jynne's room, he thrust the door open and bellowed, "You cox-livered peapod, scum of the earth, how did my first mate Diera meet her death? The smell of poison is on her. And I know of no one else on this ship who is fool enough to carry a poisoned blade without my approval. From the moment you came on this ship, you have done nothing but cause trouble. I should slit your throat here and now, but first I will let you answer before I haul you off to the brig." Marreth's fingers strayed to the hilt of his sword....

[Arry]

‘You really don’t look very well. Shall I have one of the other Elves help you?’ The Lossoth’s face peered up from his seat at the ruddy face of the Elf. Annû had stood up, the better to catch the breeze off the Bay’s waters. His face was flushed, as someone who had exerted himself hard and long. But beneath the tinge of color that stained his cheeks and neck, lay a lingering pallor. His eyes glittered, but not with the fair light of the First Born. Rather, they bore an ill glaze from some fire that burned within.

‘I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me,’ returned Annû, waving the man’s offer of help away. He pointed to where the filled airbladders lay at the front of the longboat. ‘Help Galhardir get those tied to those coils of rope, if you will.’ Annû nodded to where Rôg could just be seen gliding back and forth beneath the water. ‘Once Rôg has found a palantir, we’ll need to have those air-filled floats to tie onto the net Luindal will put under it – to mark its place so we can haul it up while they search for the second one.’ Galhardir welcomed the man’s assistance, though he glanced curiously up at Annû, after a whispered conference with his fellow Lossoth.

Elwë picked his was to the middle of the boat, his bow in hand. He’d heard Annû protest the offer of help and now stood looking at his fellow Elf. Annû managed a meager smile in greeting, saying again that it was nothing. Something he’d eaten had not agreed with him. Changing the subject, he asked if Elwë had seen any sign of the Corsairs. Elwë said he had not, and the two passed a brief time in conversation as their eyes scanned the low lying hills and rocky outcroppings that lined the edge of the bay, looking for signs of any who might be spying on them. After a while, the two Elves changed placed in the boat, taking the opposite ends from each other. Their weapons were ever at the ready as their keen grey eyes swept in an arc, toward land and water. All was well as Rôg continued his searching dives for the stones.

Galhardir glanced up from his work with the ropes and nets, startled to see that Annû had thrown back the hood to his cloak, letting the chilly breeze ruffle the hairs escaped from his hastily done braid. Unaware of his concerned observer, Annû fished into the small pack at his waist now and again, bringing out small pieces of willow bark to chew on. It was meant to keep down the fever he could feel rising. And to ease the pain in his side. It was doing neither very well as far as he could tell. He forced his thoughts away from the pain and the fevered discomfort, setting them solely on keeping watch against the foe.

[Imladris]

Jynne was expecting Marreth -- the captain had been a fool to send the cabin boy. It was too bad that Marreth had been alerted and knew that he had been the woman's slayer. He had hoped the water would have done a better job hiding Deira's body. He shrugged.

As the boy dashed back to Marreth, Jynne slipped around and knelt in the darkness that oozed under his cot. He lifted the wooden chest, opened it, and chewed his finger tip. Poisons...such innocent liquid. They were like traitors. Fair of face, yet laced with malace. He selected a curvacious vial and lifted it to a flickering ray of the dying sun. The rose tinted poison trembled in his hand, the glowing aura streaked with golden shafts. The cabin walls behind him was splashed with red and violet -- the spirits of the flowers that had bled for him. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to the smooth glass. He whispered a curse over it.

Jynne tucked the vial in his sleave, took another bottle from the chest, and turned around, leaning against the cabin walls. He glanced down at the black glassed bottle cradeled in his hand and smiled at it.

Marreth stormed in, his face an obscene purple as he raged at Jynne. "I have caused nothing but trouble?" asked Jynne silkily. "Whose idea was it to block the cave? Who rested that Hilde? I, Marreth, have been no trouble to you. In fact, I have been your greatest asset," he whispered.

"But I don't care about that," said Marreth with a coldness that rippled with anger. "How did Diera meet her death?"

Jynne shrugged. "Why would I know?"

"There was poison in the wound!"

"Maybe there are other insolent dogs who would flaunt your authority and bring a poisoned blade. You do not," said Jynne with silky delicacy, "have a thorough knowledge of your crew,"

"You liar!" Marreth roared, ripping his sword from the scabbard.

Jynne ducked, tugged the cork off the black bottle and drowned it's dark liquid. He felt a fiery strength course through his veins, he was suddenly clear headed, and he crouched like cat against the wall, as he watched Marreth control himself. "Take another swing at me," he said softly, "and I promise you that you can ask Diera herself how she met her death.

[Orofaniel]

"Is everything alright with you, Annû?" Galhardir asked He could see the discomfort in the eyes of his friend, and he didn't like it. "I'm fine, Galhardir. Don't worry," Annû replied quickly. Galhardir noticed a certian insecurity in Annû’s answer, but he wouldn't bring it up once again.

Galhardir himself, felt recovered. His strengths were returning to him after the battle but his wounds were still healing; he could still feel the pain in both his arm and his leg. The mood however, was as joyous as ever. The net they had prepared was ready. Galhardir wondered if Rôg would be able to find the Palantir. He hoped he would find it as soon as possible, so that this whole “adventure” would be over, both for his sake and for Rodhal’s. He didn’t think at first, when he had volunteered, that it would take this long. Galhardir had been of the impression that the whole thing would go ever so smoothly, without anyone getting as little as a scratch. It had turned out quite differently; Carandû was dead.

To be honest, he wondered if it had been worth it.

He cast those thoughts away as he knew it was unreasonable to think about such things. Of course it had been worth it. If they didn't find the Palantir, the Corsairs would, and that would be bad indeed. He shuddered.

"We wait, don't we?" Galhardir then said to Annû. Annû chuckled, while he nodded. "Yes, and we hope. We wait and we hope..."

**

Rodhal had spent the last time quite alone on the ship. He had not witnessed the battle with the Corsairs as he had been under deck by the order of Luindal. He had however, seen the result of it; his uncle was still in bad shape even if he didn’t admit it. He was smiling still though. Poor Annû had been badly beaten up, and Rodhal could sense unhappiness in the eyes of the elf that he hadn’t seen before. Even if he is a nine year old boy, children at his age sense those things quicker than one would have guessed.

“Uncle!” Rodhal gasped. “Did you make this net?” he asked slowly, examining it. “Well….” Galhardir started, looking at it. “What will you do with it?” Rodhal continued, even before Galhardir was could answer the boy’s first question. “Eh…Well, we’re going to use it to secure the Palantiri when Rôg finds them,” the man answered, looking at the boy. Rodhal smiled. “Has he found them already?” he cried, seeming very excited about the news. “No, not exactly,” Galhardir then answered, while his eyebrows narrowed slightly.

Rodhal’s face expression showed disappointment, but it disappeared as soon as Annû told him that Rôg would by all means, find it by the end of the day. “How can you know for certain?” Rodhal asked Annû, curiously. “Now, you’re asking so many questions my ears are about to fall of,” Galhardir said, seeming a bit annoyed. However, Galhardir could never really be angry with the boy; it was after all his only nephew. Besides, he knew how though it had been for Rodhal as he had been alone- constantly; First Galhardir had fallen through the ice, spending several days recovering from the bitter cold and the horrible fever, and now; the battle. Poor Rodhal had been taken care of himself all along. While wondering if Galhardir had indeed been most irresponsible when he had taken Rodhal with him to this mission in the first place, he was interrupted by Rodhal’s howling laughter. The boy was still awaiting the final answer from the elf. “Well, I have a good feeling about this,” Annû told him. “He has to find it, or this will all be in vain…everything we’ve done will be in vain,” he finished.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth could feel the blood pulsing through his veins as he took in Jynne's disturbing words. Lies, all a pack of lies! But it would do him no good to succumb to anger letting emotion rather than wit determine the outcome of their dispute.

Still, his initial instinct was to hurtle towards Jynne with sword extended and make an end of the miserable wretch. He had no doubt that he could best him in swordplay. Yet something caused him to draw back. Jynne had used poison twice before: he would surely not hesitate to use it again. And Marreth had no wish to be on the receiving end of a poisoned blade.

Marreth watched in disbelief as Jynne uncorked the black flask and drank its contents. Marreth's hand slipped from the hilt of his sword as he deliberately took three paces back. "You fool! You have brought your own doom upon your head. I will not sully my blade with the blood of one who is a traitor and coward to boot."

"A traitor?" Jynne raised one eyebrow and glared over at the Corsair, relishing the final stroke that was yet to come. "I am no traitor,"he purred. "I do only what I have been instructed to do by a mighty lord of Harard who thought you so weak and untrustworthy that he hired me to keep you in line."

"You lie!" snarled Marreth, hating the thought that what Jynne said might be true.

"No, it is you who lies. You lie to yourself, with your illusions about honor and the sacredness of your command. You are nothing more than a pawn for Lord Castamir. To be thrown out and discarded when your job is done."

Blind fury seized Marreth as he detected the truth that underlay Jynne's claims. Heedless of the danger, the Corsair hurled himself at the dying man. With one final effort, Jynne reached inside his sleeve and ripped out a second bottle of inky liquid, quickly uncorking it. Marreth stood frozen to the spot as if unable to move. One more second and he would have no chance. The contents of the flask would reach his skin, and the only possible escape would be death.

But in that split instant just before Jynne's hand flicked out, a shadow suddenly appeared behind Marreth. Small and stout, dressed in the furs of a Lossoth, Hilde appeared from nowhere,: a silent witness who bore a heavy axe. She brought the blade down twice in a paroxysm of rage, cutting straight through Jynne's wrist and sending the man screaming to the ground. His cry died on his lips as the poison took hold. Jynne shuddered once, twice, then lay silent in a heap.

Marreth looked down on the woman, astonished that one so short and grey-haired could have so much power in her arms, and even more astonished that she had done this for him. His eyes asked the question, even before his mouth opened to speak.

She shrugged her shoulders, "You played straight with me. You paid me well and pulled me out of the brig when the Elves would have skewered me in two. I owed it to you."

"So there is honor even among thieves," Marreth mused with a hint of a smile.

"Perhaps a little," the woman conceded as she picked up the axe, cleaned the blade against the cloak of the dead man, and abruptly walked out.

Already there was a large crowd in the hallway to peer and gawk at what had happened. Marreth looked up and snapped at the helmsman, "Raise the sail. We head out now to the Elven vessel. Feed this dog's body to the sharks at Sea." He gave a hard kick to Jynne's behind.

Once the others had left, Marreth ran over to Jynne's satchel and began searching. Digging deep, he found a hidden compartment, with a small piece of parchment rolled up. He pulled it out: a document from Castamir to Jynne, confirming what the man had told him. In a fit of anger, he threw it against the wall and snapped. "I swear I have had it with great lords and great Elves. They deserve each other. I will get those Stones for myself. Let all the great lords come begging to me.....I will turn up my nose at them." He turned away and headed for the main deck intending to have his revenge on the Elven ship....

[Lalwendë]

Regan had brought Tarn his effects together with a needle and a reel of rough thread to mend the long rends in the leather of his coat. It was obviously a needle that had previously been used to stitch a wound together, possibly his own wound, as it was tipped in encrusted blood; and it was a crude, quite blunt one, but Tarn had insisted upon having it. The rips had been awkward to fix, and the needle had gone into his finger more than a few times, but these hurts did not register on him.

Finally he had fixed up his coat as best he could. He was sitting looking at it with a frown, as it had been an expensive purchase from a Southern trader and he was not happy to see it in such a rough state. As he contemplated cleaning it, he heard a crashing noise coming from a cabin along the gangway and leapt to his feet, swinging the coat around his shoulders without a thought.

Fully kitted up again, he followed the noise down the gangway to Jynne’s cabin where he was just in time to see little Hilde hurling her axe. He stepped back away from the doorway in amazement and not a little fear. He was not alone; a crowd had gathered, Regan amongst them. He raised his eyebrows at Tarn silently, and a smile crept about the corners of his mouth. Tarn nodded and thrust out his bottom lip in a grimace, appreciatively looking at what the woman had achieved. It was one of the only times he had approved of the actions of another Lossoth.

Looking up, Marreth barked out an order to set sail and the crowd instantly dispersed to take up their posts. Tarn did not have one, and he knew he would have been allowed to remain within his cabin, but adrenalin now surged through his veins again and he ran down the gangway after Regan, eager to play whatever part may come to him.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Luindal had expected that Rôg would find some evidence of one of the two Stones within a relatively short space of time. But for the next two hours they had little luck. Luindal watched and waited with impatience as his friend repeatedly dove in and out of the water, coming up to the surface every now and then for a fresh lungful of air.

Luindal fidgeted in his place and wished that he was back on the Spirit. At least, he would have been able to move around and pace the length of the deck instead of being miserably hunched in one spot. Not only was his suit emitting a definite odor, but the seal skins Rôg had used pulled so tight across his chest that he felt he could barely breath. Rôg had finished searching the waters immediately surrounding them without finding anything of interest, and had beckoned his companions to follow him to a spot some ways eastward that was closer to the edge of the sandbar.

Luindal frowned at this piece of news. They were in no danger sitting in the smaller vessels, but it would be a tricky piece of sailing to manoeuver the Spirit so close to the bar and not have her stranded on the shallow bottom. He glanced back nervously at his beloved sailing ship, which was still positioned in the deep waters where he had told the rest of the crew to wait. He wanted this job done quickly. There had already been too many instances of guile and deceit on the part of Marreth and his men. He did not trust Marreth for a minute to let them search in peace.

Added to that was the fact that the wind was blowing briskly. The distinct hint of moisture in the air and the grey clouds scudding overhead indicated a storm could be brewing. Their job was a delicate one, and they would have no hope of pulling up the Stone if the weather turned bad. Already the waters of the Bay were beginning to churn, and small, choppy waves made their small boats bob up and down in the waters of the Bay.

Just as Luindal was beginning to wonder if he shouldn't call off their search, he caught a glimpse of Rôg swimming purposefully towards them. The shapechanger came up beside the boat and announced that the larger of the two Stones had been found on the floor of the Bay just west of the sandbar. It had not been buried in the sand and appeared to be in perfect shape.


Overwhelmed with feelings of curiosity and relief, Luindal pushed aside his doubts about the weather and slipped into the water at Rôg's side. The pair dove and then swam towards the spot where the palantir lay......

[piosenniel]

Pio's post:

‘I’ve found it,’ Rôg had told the captain. ‘Hidden in plain sight as it were!’ He chuckled, then, seeing the frown on Luindal’s face, went on. ‘As far as I can tell it’s intact, but the years and the waters have left their protective cloak over it.’

‘And . . .?’ prompted the Elf.

‘And why don’t you come see it yourself,’ Rôg continued. Luindal eased himself into the water from the longboat. The shapechanger offered him a flipper to hang on to, and off they went.

It was not far below the surface where the palantir lay. But time and tides had nested other smaller rocks about it, and coated it with a fine layer of sediment, making it look irregular in shape. Limpets and barnacles had attached themselves along the upper surface. Rôg supposed that even when the tide was out and a small section of the scaly top of the globe exposed, it would not be recognizable as something as grandly crafted as a palantir.

Luindal dove down to the base of the globe with Rôg. In his explorations, the shapechanger had poked and prodded at the small rocks along the sloping edge of the bay leading down from the sandbar. When he’d worried several of the small rocks in the place, they had jarred loose a layer of encrustation from the globe, allowing him a glimpse of the smooth surface beneath. A crystalline shimmer, even in the dim light of these northern waters, made him pause and inspect further. Luindal grinned when his friend showed him the surface that lay beneath the ‘rock’ and motioned for them to surface.

In a pre-arranged signal, Luindal called the ship near to where the palantir lay. The longboats had already come near with their cargo of nets and ropes. Taking a stout pike in his hands, the captain and Rôg dove down again to begin clearing the smaller stones from the far side of the palantir’s base. Luindal resurfaced a number of times for air, and finally for the large net. He wedged the bottom edge of the net as far as he could beneath the globe, Rôg helping as best he could using his teeth. The pair resurfaced to get the ropes with their stout hooks tied on and dove down again to attach them to the net. The ropes had rings on their opposite ends which were slid over a stout, thick iron hook from the windlass used to haul up the anchor. They were pulled taut as several Elves put their muscle to the handles of the horizontal cylinder and pushed it slowly round. It was a hard haul at first, as the globe was dislodged from its sedimentary base; but it broke free at last and was pulled quickly toward the ship and then upwards, secure in the net, to the deck.

Numerous hands reached out to help it swing gently over the railing and lower it down gently to the nest of canvas prepared for it. Luindal and Rôg had come quickly back to the ship as the globe was maneuvered through the waters and watched as it was finally levered safely onto the deck. ‘Put some chock’s about the base,’ Luindal called out. ‘So that it doesn’t move. and let’s get the other net over it and secured down to the railings so that it won’t pitch overboard should the sea turn rough on our journey back to the Havens.’

Satisfied that the precious cargo was safe, Luindal asked that Rôg continue his search for the smaller of the seeing stones. ‘I’ll give it my best,’ the shapechanger said, maneuvering himself to the side of the ship. ‘But given how the big one looked, I’m not sure I’ll recognize the smaller at all.’ He leveraged himself over the side of the Spirit and dove into the water.

The clouds parted for a brief moment; the weak sunlight hit the ship, lightening the spirits of those aboard as it did so. It bathed the stone as it lay on the deck, glinting off the small portion of smooth crystalline surface that had previously been exposed. A reflected ray shot out from the palantir, glittering wildly from within; a brilliant flash, driving away the darkness for a brief moment as the thick dark clouds rolled in once more.

A triumphant signal, it might be said, or perhaps even mocking, seen clearly by the Corsair ship . .



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Regin Hardhammer's post

Marreth had never suspected Lord Castamir to be spying on himself. Had he always been monitoring Marreth, or was this an extra precaution that had been taken to safeguard the Palantiri? Marreth had never been focused on the Stones themselves, because his use for them was limited. He did not have political aspirations, preferring to voyage the sea in search of lute and plunder, rather than hatching schemes inside an office. Vengeance welled deep in his heart against the Gondorians, the murderers of his father, and the personal glory he would gain both mattered much more to him than actually using the Stones. But betrayal, either by Lord Castamir or his agent, made Marreth’s blood boil like the water in his tea kettle. Marreth vowed to seize these powerful weapons and use them against Gondor, because of the anguish he knew it would cause to Castamir, watching his most desired treasure being reaped by another.

His eyes scaned the horizon, and Marreth began to pull his thoughts away from the vile Castamir and focus on the immediate task of securing the Palantiri. Marreth had not succeeded so far, but he realized that his mission must continue, whatever the betrayal Castamir had made, since the thought of allowing the Stones to reach Gondor caused a visceral pain in his stomach.

As he sat weighing yet another tactic to use against the Elves, he saw something sparkling in the dull blue waters. Marreth turned his head and watched in horror as the Elvish ship pulled a large opaque stone from the sea using a winch and nets. Beside the ship, Marreth noticed a seal barking towards one of the Elves on board who then flashing a big grin, which he thought was rather odd. The seal, once on board the smaller ship, changed shape into a man with brown hair and olive skin before Marreth’s very eyes. Marreth had heard of shapechangers before in tales told on his travels, but he had never actually seen one. So that’s how they found it, thought Marreth. Even with the most trained seal, a human would be able to search out the Stones and find them faster than the Corsairs ever would.

After he stopped cursing and kicking furniture, Marreth calmed down enough to realize that if the Elves have found one Stone, the other probably would not be far away. All they had to do was find it, it, attack the Luindal's ship, capture the other Palantiri, and send those on board to a grave on the ocean floor below the wall of ice which would soon cover the water’s surface. Marreth was confident of his victory because, although he could handle the sword deftly, his greatest strength lie on naval warfare, where his ship was swifter than a shark.

With a holler, Marreth blared to the ship’s crew, “Boys, it was a bad bit of luck that the Elves got the first Palantiri, but there’s still another one out there. And we are going to go out and get it before those stinking Elves do. It probably isn’t too far from the spot that they found the first one. After we take the other stone, we will launch an attack on those Elvish vermin so hard that their ship will be shattered into driftwood. Let’s get moving.”

[Imladris]

Marreth had been quite clever when he had realized that Jynne had been the one poisoning Jarlyn...Jarlyn himself had put up quite a fight to the poison, thinking of his beloved city, of a certain lady friend that might have waited for him...such thoughts gave him hope and gave him the will to live.

Jarlyn often said that sickness in the body is like a sinking ship in the teeth of a violent storm. No matter how hard the crew may try to bail the water from the decks, no matter how many things they hauled overboard, the ship would sink, unless it was saved by some miracle (and everybody knows that they are scarce to come by and Jarlyn was of the opinion that the world had run out of them a long while ago).

The poison that sucked and choaked the life from Jarlyn's body did its work quietly, not tearing his flesh with maliced claws, nor gnashing his flesh with burning fangs. It corroded his spirit away, like rust gnawing at metal. Marreth had tried to help Jarlyn, and he had helped him a little bit. But just a little. Jynne had done his work well.

As Jarlyn slept, a brown skinned maiden with shimmering hairy of ebony dancing in his mind, a dark phantom slipped into the room, summoned by the poison. What little blood that had lingered in Jarlyn's cheeks fled in silent fear. The warmth seeped from his skin as he received the kiss of death and went silently to the doom of men.

[piosenniel]

The wind was picking up. Even below the surface of the bay, Rôg could feel the water pushing this way and that with a stronger force. He rose up toward the surface, poking his head through a hole in the thin ice. It was sleeting, turning to flakes of heavy snow here and there. With the increasing change for the worse in weather, came a dimming of the natural light. It grew dark the further down he dove and he had to feel his way along with snout and flipper for anything that might be the palantir. A few promising rocky formations had been pushed and prodded against, but none yielded the smaller globe. He remained persistent, despite the worsening conditions. Two hours, though, of diligent searching brought no results. Luindal called him aboard, saying they needed to move the ship into the deeper waters of the bay to avoid being pushed up on the sandbar by the surging waves.

Once Rôg was aboard, the Elves weighed anchor and unfurled the mainsail, preparing to head into the interior of the bay. The wind lashed at the sail as it was hoisted, driving the ship through the waves at a rapid rate. Below, on the deck, the crew who were busying themselves with securing anything on deck against being washed overboard in the increasing storm. The main mast groaned as the sail filed out with the powerful gusts of wind. And a number of times Elves near it peered up the length of it to see if there were any reason it had begun to also make a sharp creaking sort of sound.

Luindal had just come up to see what was left to be done, when one of the crew called out a warning. An especially strong breeze had slapped itself against the sail in a sudden squall. The mast groaned as the sailed pulled on it and twisted as another gust of wind hit it from a different angle. With a crack, a long section of the wooden mast in the upper half of its length, snapped in two, and heaved toward the deck. Elves scrambled to secure the sail and the broken length of mast before it washed into the bay. The captain ran to give assistance, but was stopped short at a call from his first mate. pointing back to the sandbar and the area of it fronting on the bay.

The Corsairs! It seemed they had taken rapid advantage of the Elven ship’s retreat and now its misfortune and had pulled in close to the sandbar with a number of their longboats, preparing to make their own search for the other palantir. Luindal ordered a few of the crew to keep an eye on the Southrons’ ship, while he and others repaired the mast as hastily as was possible . . .

[Child of the 7th Age]

At first, Luindal had no idea how this mishap could possibly have happened. He had carefully inspected all the rigging and the mast the morning before. Everything had been in perfect shape at that time. The wind blowing through the Bay was brisk, but not so forceful that a healthy main mast could be sheered off from the force of the storm.

Luindal worked steadily with his crew to rig up a gerrymandered sail on the lower half of the mast. It would at least give them limited ability to maneuver the ship till they could put in at port again to secure another mast. Yet all the while the Elf worked, he was furiously reflecting on how this could possibly come about. It must somehow be linked, he reflected, on the unexplained incident from last night when the Corsairs had been discovered in barrels that the merchants had loaded onto the ship. Exactly what had Marreth been trying to accomplish then? Undoubtedly, he wanted his men to stay hidden until the barrels were stowed in the hull. At that point, late at night, the Corsairs could creep out and visit all manner of havoc on both the men and the ship Still, the risk of discovery was unacceptably high, and Marreth must have known that. It was common practice for the Captain of a ship to check two or three random containers to make certain the merchants had properly packed and transported the goods. And while some of the barrels were filled only with supplies, a great many also hid a stowaway. The odds were quite good that the Corsairs would be discovered before they ever got below deck.

Perhaps the real reason for the incident was that it was planned as a diversion, to take the Elves' attention away from something else that was suposed to happen. A grimace of realization passed over Luindal's face as he gestured to his men to halt their work. He quickly mounted the main mast and climbed to the spot where it had snapped in two. Closely examining the jagged spears of wood, he could see what appeared to be the bottom half of a smooth tunnel bored expertly through its very center. He glanced over at a rope that now swung free: a small piece of parchment had been painstakingly tied to it at some earlier point. Ripping the dagger from his side, he sliced through the rope, retrieved the note, and quickly scanned it.

Grim faced but silent, Luindal climbed downward and thrust the message into the outstretched hands of Rôg and Galhardir who were both waiting at the base of the mast. Rôg looked it over and quipped, "Marreth, again! He is like a cat with a dozen lives. You never know where he'll turn up next. Strange, though," he pondered, "that he should write with such a scholar's hand."

[Arry]

‘Scholar or no,’ said Annû drawing near to where Luindal and the others stood, ‘the man is a black-hearted scoundrel and a common thief.’ He drew their attention to where the longboats of the Corsair ship had been lowered and were now slowly scouring the area where the large globe had been found previously by the Elves. they could see that there were Lossoth with the Corsairs, and that they had brought seals to use in the hunt for the globe. ‘He still means to have the smaller palantir with no thought to the cost of obtaining it. He’s a single-minded blackguard it would seem.’

Annû nodded to where Elwë stood at the Ship’s railing, his eyes straining for a glimpse of Andtuariel. ‘This incident with the mast will not be the last of his tricks to keep us from securing both the stones. He’ll use our own better nature against us, I’m sure of it. Offering her safety as a reward for letting them have both the stones. We mustn’t trust him, no matter what he promises.’

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth’s excitement rose as the Corsairs raced towards the wounded Elven ship. The other Palantiri was bound to be somewhere nearby. Marreth called in the Lossoth trainers and told them to send out their seals. “And they better find the Stone or there will be a new item on the menu tonight,” he snarled. He would not stand to lose the Palantiri again, especially with such a prime opportunity. The trainers called their seals and instructed them to search the vicinity where the other had been found. After watching the seals glide downwards through the icy waters, Marreth look once more at the Elveh ship. He saw them working frantically to try and rig up a sail, and laughed giddily at the sight. Fools, thought Marreth, no one can save them now. Soon after the other Palantiri was in his grasp, Marreth would spring his attack and capture the one the Elves held. He would take no prisoners, and especially relished the thought of watching that fool Luindal walk the plank.

“Get ready mates,” he ordered. “After those seals find the Palantiri, we’ll have to use the winch and pull it up with the net. Make sure that both are working.” Several crewmembers ran towards the devices to examine them. Minutes crawled by as he waited for the seals to arrive and Marreth felt as if he were stranded in the middle of the sea waiting for the wind to pick up. Infernal beasts, he thought, never did us any good. It will be a miracle if they come back at all.

Then, just as he was about to vent his frustration on the seal trainers, he heard a distinct barking sound in the distance. He ordered the crew to follow the noise and, after arriving at its source, Marreth smiled warmly as he saw a circle of seals.

“Lower the net slowly,” cried Marreth, “Give the seals a minute to push the Stone into the net, and when you pull it up be careful. We don’t want to break or lose it.”

One of the seals again surfaced as four members of the Corsair crew began turning the crank at a steady pace, eagerly awaiting the prize. After a few moments, a black opaque stone, smooth as a pearl, appeared caught in the net. Marreth rushed towards the net as it was pulled on board, pushing the others out of the way. Trembling with excitement, he lifted the stone in his hands. It was heavy, but not burdensome for Marreth, who was strengthened by years of battle.

Stroking the Stone repeatedly with his palm, Marreth gloated: I have one of the legendary weapons of power. Let Lord Castamir take heed!

“Onward,” barked Marreth, “Set a course straight for the Elven ship. We will approach her while she is still dead in the water and slaughter all on board. Spare only the Captain. I have special plans for him.”

With that Corsair ship set a course right for the stranded vessel.

[Kitanna]

Nilak had brought his two best seals to help find the last stone. He leaned over the ship and whistled for the seals. Their heads surfaced in the dark waters and they barked happilay when they saw Nilak. "Kaltag, Eleri. You know what to do, do not fail me." He clapped his hands and let out one long whistle. The he pointed toward where the other trained seals were headed. Kaltag and Eleri took off without hesitation. Now all any one could do was wait.

Nilak stood by the ship's rail watched the icy waters waiting for the seals to return. As he stood he sensed someone behind him. He had a good idea who it might be. "Those beasts better find the stone." Sernir growled in Nilak's ear.

"They will. Those two are my best seals."

"They better be. Remember the reward that is at stake if your seals are not the ones to find that stone."

Nilak clenched his teeth together. Soon he will be gone and life can go on as it always has, Nilak thought.

~*~*~

It was theirs. The seals had found the second stone and now it was aboard the Corsair ship. It had not been one of Nilak's seals that found it, but after all that had happened he cared not.

Everyone crowded around Marreth as he held the stone. The captain looked at the stone without paying attention to anyone else. Everyone near the stone had a look of longing and jealously in their eyes as Marreth held the stone. Nilak also felt a pull toward the stone and it's power, but he was more curious.

What was so important? What power did this stone hold that so many men had died because of it? Nilak wanted to take it from Marreth and try to better understand it. He wanted to learn its secrets. Marreth turned his back to Nilak and the Lossoth's head cleared.

The captain yelled out orders to head for the Elven ship. Nilak grabbed some fish he had and threw them over the side for Kaltag and Eleri. He tried to forget about the stone, but his curiousity kept rising. Maybe he could try to sneak a peek when everyone else was on board with the Elves.

[Child of the 7th Age]

"Captain, look!" Galhardir pointed grimly towards the Corsair ship as the pirates began to reel in their line and haul the smaller of the Stones onto the deck. For an instant Marreth's ship halted as if its captain was uncertain whether to take his prize back to shore or continue on and try to seize the other Stone. Then, abruptly, the vessel turned and begin to bear down on them. Its path would bring it alongside the Spirit in a matter of only a few minutes.

Glancing anxiously towards the mast, Luindal signalled to the men who were working on the rigging. "We've got to get out of here and fast. Is the sail up and secure?"

Elwên's voice came back, "She's up, sir. The rigging has been repaired the best we could. But whether the lines are strong enough to hold, we can't know for sure."

"We've no choice," countered Luindal. "Go ahead and unfurl her." Then he shouted to the helmsman. "Get us out of here."

The Elves pulled at the lines trying to coax the sail to unfurl on the central mast. The storm had passed and the sea was once again silent. For a moment, the canvas lay limp and unmoving, waiting for a fresh breeze to come. The Corsair vessel continued to hold course as the distance between the two ships shrank. Then the wind picked up. There was a creak and a groan as the rigging pulled taut and the sail billowed to its fullest. Slowly, the great ship began to move.

Luindal glanced nervously at the groaning lines but the sail continued to hold true. "I've got her, Captain," the Elf at the helm cried out and the Spirit skimmed along the top of the waves, as if Ulmo's unseen hand pushed her gently from behind. Within a few moments, the ship had maneuvered out of the way of the Corsairs and had swung around to the west, positioning itself further from the sandbar.

Luindal's first thought was to make it into port and permanently repair the damaged mast. As much as he would have liked to confront Marreth and seize the other Stone, he was unlikely to have success in the shape they were in now. But just as Luindal was about to turn his ship about and race to the shore, Annû's voice rang out, laced with suspicion, "Sir, look again. The Corsairs have stopped dead in the water and they're signalling to us...." Annû grimaced and placed his palm about the hilt of his sword.

[Arry]

His hand went to the hilt of the sword hung from his hip. It was Carrandû’s blade; Annû wore it more for the comfort of having his brother with him still in some small manner, rather than for his ability to use it well. At his back was hung his bow, and now his hand went up to it, bringing into place in his right grip; his left hand hastening back for an arrow. He nocked one, loosely, keeping his eyes on the Corsair ship as he walked to the ships railing and leaned against it. They were still too far away, even for the strength of his bow. Three more ship lengths, he thought, and I can begin to pick them off.

His eye was caught by a struggle on the southron ship at the entrance to the below-deck passageway. A crewman had come up to the deck and was now pulling on something still in the passageway. A slender figure was pulled onto the deck with another crewmember shoving roughly from behind. A woman – her hands tied behind her struggle to free herself from the grip of the two Corsairs. Elwë had come up along side Annû; his attention focused on the events taking place across the water. ‘Andtuariel!’ he gasped out in strangled voice.

Annû clasped his fellow Elf on the shoulder. ‘Your crossbow, Elwë. Fetch it quickly. You will need it if we are to rescue her.’

[Lalwendë]

To Tarn had fallen the part of calling the seals and getting them to find this mysterious stone. He had seen the nets of the Elves drawing up the larger stone, and he gazed in wonder as he realised what the whole venture had been about. He had at first wondered what value there could be in some old stones, and it had crossed his mind to question why they should be fighting to gain possession of them. But as he saw the stone being winched in by the Elves, he remembered one of his Grandfather’s old tales of a great disaster involving kings and precious ‘seeing stones’. He had always enjoyed the tale, more for the thrilling and terrifying disaster than the mysterious stones, but the memory of it was there in the back of his mind.

Tarn did not have long to spend in wonder as soon Marreth ordered the trained seals to be called, to help the Corsairs locate the remaining stone. After a long, high whistle, Tarn’s group of seals appeared, eager to do his bidding, and leaning over the rail of the ship, he welcomed them, as was his habit. Issuing a series of complicated whistles, the creatures went off to a spot slightly away from the Corsair ship and disappeared beneath the icy waves silently. Tarn could do no more now than watch and wait. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen Marreth pacing the deck with a tense look upon his face. Tarn knew not to address him, as he could see that impatience was brewing in the Captain; but he looked troubled by something else, something which Tarn could not read.

***

When the black stone was winched in, Tarn’s eyes opened wide with amazement. It was just as his grandfather had said. He longed to touch it, and edged closer to Marreth, but the Captain held it firmly and jealously turned away from him, a glint in his dark eyes. Tarn cursed himself that he had not gone looking for these stones on his own; their worth was more than ten times everything else he had ever salvaged from this ocean. They could buy untold weaponry, they could buy the support of a great many men, they could have given him the power he craved.

He tried to get a closer look but the Captain finally walked away from him, barking out orders to sail for the Elven ship. Tarn, disappointed, went back to the rail and put his head on his arms. A surge of pain welled up behind his broken ribs and he sighed. He was not sure he was so keen for another battle at that moment though he knew he was fit for it. Gazing at the waves sadly, a sense of disappointment grew within him, and he longed to get hold of that stone.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Holding the Palantir gingerly in his arms, Marreth watched eagerly as his ship got closer and closer to the wounded Elven vessel. Soon the other Stone would be his and the Elves would be dead. Even Lord Castamir could no longer stand against him.

But when he was no more than a stone’s throw from the ship, he saw with dismay that the Elves had finished restringing the sails on the half shattered mast. Now their ship was escaping and sailing slowly toward the shore. Although their sail worked, it did not provide full maneuverability and it was unstable enough to be knocked down by a strong gust of wind. Perhaps, they aimed to continue the fight on land, where both parties stood on equal footing.

“Not again!” yelled Marreth livid from frustration. He would not let the Elves slip away again and thwart his plans. His determination and passion flared higher than ever as he racked his mind for a course of action. The Corsair ship might not be able to catch the Spirit before it reached land and Marreth did not want to pursue them on dry ground if he could finish them off at sea.

Then Marreth stumbled on an idea that he had used once before to gain the upper hand on the Elves. “Bring the hostage to me,” he roared. Two of his crew brought the Elf woman to Marreth. She had been captured during the foray to free Hilde from her incarceration. The blue robe the woman wore was battered, covered with dust, and slightly ripped in places but the Elf herself was relatively healthy, especially considering the abysmal conditions of the ship’s prison. “How are you doing, little lady,” Marreth quipped with a grin. She made no effort to answer and kept her head down and eyes closed.

Marreth brought his ship to a halt and bellowed out a challenge, “Luindal, you sea dog, I have something that might be of interest to you. You best stop and hand over that large Palantir. I already hold one of them in my hand and I enjoy starting new collections. What do you say? Otherwise, this little lady could get very damp.”

With that, Marreth grabbed Andtuariel by the shoulder and shoved her out to the very end of the plank.

[Child of the 7th Age]

The two ships stood unmoving in the water, each in close proximity to the other. After hearing the proposal that had been made, Luindal responded calmly to Marreth, "We wish to see the Elf safe, but will need a moment to consider what you are asking us to do and how we are to move this massive Stone. It won't be easy getting the thing from one ship to the other." He pointed towards the massive globe that had been set down in the stern of the vessel.

Marreth responded with a grin on his face, "A moment? A moment is fine but make sure you take no longer than that."

Quickly, Luindal beckoned the crew, both Elves and Lossoth, over to a spot where they would not be seen or heard by the Corsairs. Annû was the first to speak, "Surely you do not believe him?"

"No more than you do. But we can play for time, enough time to prepare a little surprise of our own." Luindal snapped out his instructions. "Tarn, Nilak and the other Lossoth....you are to move the Stone into the net and act as if you are cranking up the winch to swing the package over to the Corsair ship. Keep a firm grip on Stone and net, but make sure you have trouble with your task. If a head or two should roll by being knocked by a swinging net and Stone, so be it."

"I will take the helm and sail straight in, positioning our ship beside theirs."

"That's all?" Annû queried.

"No, I need volunteers, preferably Elves who don't mind cold water. As we approach the ship, slip into the sea and make your way over to the far side of the Corsair vessel. You won't have to swim far. One of you take this rope, throw it up and have it latch onto something solid to give yourself a ladder to shimmy up. Once you're on board, stir up some havoc and try to get Andtuariel out of the way. We'll attack from the front once we see you're safely on the ship." The companions nodded and each headed off to a task.

Luindal was not sure about Andtuariel's safety. Once Mareth knew they planned to attack, she would be the first to go. Yet he had no idea what else to do.

Luindal turned back to Marreth since the Corsair had again begun to call impatiently from the other ship, "We will give you the Stone," Luiindal hastily assured him. "I do not want to see another crew member die, especially a woman. Only this Palantir is massive, and it may take us a while to get it loaded in the net. If it's alright with you, I'll sail over towards your ship where we can do the transfer."

"By all means, come visiting. But remember that we will all have our weapons trained on the Spirit and, if there is anything suspicious, the pretty dainty goes first." Marreth grinned again and gestured towards Andtuariel who was perched on the end of the plank, shivering and looking thoroughly miserable.

[piosenniel]

Rôg’s hands were gripped firmly on the rail. The waters of the bay were choppy, making him feel as if he did not hold on tightly he would be washed overboard. He stumbled a little as the deck lurched, and felt the strong grip of someone’s hands on the back of his arm, steadying him. ‘Careful, Rôg, we would not want to lose you when you are so close to going home.’ It was little Rodhal, a concerned look on his face. Rôg smiled at the boy, stepping away from the rail with him to the passageway below deck.

He had stepped just down to the second step when the ship lurched again. He was thrown against the side of the passageway, staggering to get himself up as well as Rodhal, when a number of Elves came running up the stairs, weapons in hand. ‘What’s happening?’ the boy cried out, shrinking against the wall of the passage. Rôg put his hand out, stopping one of the Elves. Before he could ask his question, the Elf was already starting past him. ‘The Captain has called us on board. The Corsairs are making an attempt to get the palantir from us.’ Rôg took Rodhal down to his cabin and bade him stay there – safe from the happenings above. ‘I’ll send your Uncle down to you if I see him above.’

Rôg ran quickly back to the deck. The Corsair ship had approached near the Elven ship. Luindal had turned the Sea Spirit about and was now parallel with the other. Rôg turned his head up toward the quarterdeck; he could see Elwë and Annû, their faces grim, intent upon the Corsair ship. Others of the Elves had taken positions along the deck, many of them with bows in hand, arrows already nocked. He let his eyes track to the ship opposite them and to the ragged figure that stood wavering on the plank that protruded from it. It was Andtuariel!

‘You should go below,’ one of the crew members said to him. ‘You are not armed. And soon, I think, there will be fighting.’ He pushed the Skinchanger gently but firmly back toward the passageway, then turned away to take up his position. Rôg stood for a few moments in the shadow of the passage, waiting for the Elf’s attention to be turned away from him fully.

‘I don’t have any weapons,’ he murmured to himself as he crept to the opposite side of the ship from where all were focused on the Corsairs. ‘But I can do something to help.’ With those words, he slipped over the side of the ship, dropping toward the waves below. He dove deep beneath the surface, his strong flippers and tail moving him quickly through the water. Soon he was positioned near the Corsair ship, just below the plank. He could see the Elf’s blue cloak fluttering in the breeze above.

‘Andtuariel,’ he barked up to her, trying to catch her attention. ‘Just jump . . .’

[Arry]

The salt water stung his wound intensely. Annû sucked in his breath and eased himself away from the Spirit, swimming with strong strokes toward the Corsair vessel. Elwë followed close behind him. Both of them had stripped down to their breeches and carried a knife and clubs as weapons. A dozen other of the crew had also slipped over the side at Luindal’s request, their own knives, clubs, and swords well secured against the heaving of the waves.

Elwë was the one who had taken the rope the Captain had offered. When all had gathered at the far side of the Corsair ship, Elwë threw the rope with its small grappling hook up toward the long boat that hung from the davit. The curved prongs caught on the rim of the boat, and Elwë climbed up quickly, hand over hand. the others followed suit, clambering into the boat as quietly as they could. Annû was the last one up. He pulled the rope up after him, stowing it in the bottom of the boat.

It was only a short distance from where the boat was suspended to the deck of the ship. With a great yell, the Elves sprang from the cover of the boat, leapt over the ship’s railing, and poured onto the deck, their weapons slashing and bashing with great effect. In the midst of the sudden confusion, Elwë, Annû, and one other Elf made their way toward the plank where Andtuariel was perched . . .

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth howled in rage as the Elves spilled onto the deck and began to fight. He quickly glanced at the spot where the female Elf was standing. He felt like tossing her into the Bay. That coward Luindal had broken his word, and Andtuariel should pay the price. But right now he had other things to worry about. The Elf would have to wait until the intruders had been defeated and the Palantari was safe.

"Mates," he yelled out, "Over here!" He beckoned to a several of his men. "Keep the Elves from breaking through to the woman. "The rest of you come with me. Form a cordon to guard the Stone." He set the smaller Stone down on top of a barrell and ordered four of his crew to protect it with their lives. "Keep this safe, and there'll be fine loot in it for each of you."

Then he gestured several more crew members to come to his side. They formed an outer ring around the barrel intent on safeguarding the Stone. Within a few moments everyone was fighting as swords and daggers flashed in the air.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Everywhere loud shouts erupted and the clash of blade on blade as the Elves swarmed over the deck of the Corsair vessel, trying to battle their way to the spot where Andtuariel hung suspended above the water at the end of a narrow plank. With small clusters of fighters engaged in every corner of the ship, Marreth and his men were momentarily too occupied to pay much attention to the Elf who stood shivering and alone, a blindfold covering her eyes. Yes, despite the diversion, there was little she could do to free herself. Unable to see, her arms and legs hobbled, Andtuariel clung to her precarious perch, and cried out with a pitiful voice, beseeching her would-be rescuers to redouble their efforts.

Luindal stood firm at the helm of the Spirit, wrestling with the wheel as he tried to bring the ship close enough for his men to be able to reach the other deck. The boarding party would not be enough to take the Corsair ship. More reinforcements were needed. A line of Lossoth and a few remaining Elves waited impatiently on the Spirit, most perched in the rigging, hoping that their moment of opportunity would come.

For all his years of experience as a sailor and helmsman, Luindal did not have an easy job. The wind had again picked up and blew in great jagged peaks causing both ships to lunge back and forth from one wave to the next. The mast of the Spirit was creeking and groaning under the strain. The makeshift repairs would never hold. The short stump of the main mast did not have the strength to bear the full weight of the sails: even in calm weather they should have limped back to shore. But the sea was not calm, and the weather was becoming grim. The Elf managed to get his ship within several arms's length of the other but it was still too far out for his men to leap onto the other vessel.

Suddenly feeling a stinging senation on his face, Luindal glanced up from the wheel to the sky and saw to his horror that hail was beginning to fall. At first there were only a few balls no larger than a man's fingertip, but they soon grew in size and number. Hundreds of hailballs came pelting down against the sails, ripping them to shreds and slicing into the rigging itself, leaving ropes dangling free. The main mast itself began to sway slightly back and forth under the weight of the blasts.

Jumping back from the helm, and shielding his head from the hail, Luindal grabbed an axe in his other hand and began hacking away at the largest of the ropes, the one that held the mainsail in place. He called out to his crew who were perched in the rigging, "Use your axes and daggers. Cut the ropes. Let the sail swing free. She'll give you a ride to the Corsairs." The crew began hacking away at the few remaining ropes that were still in place.

"She'll turn turtle!" one of the Elves howled.

"No," Luindal cried fiercely as he climbed up onto the mast. "The Spirit will hold true."

With that, and a final blast of wind from the north, the boom swing wildly back and forth, wholly freed from its moorings. The occupants of the rigging clung for dear life. The Spirit lurched ever closer to the pirate ship. With a final creek and a groan, the mast of the Elven vessel snapped in two and the entire assemblage, both sails and spar, swung far leeward and toppled onto the deck of the Corsair ship, carrying Luindal and his men into the thick of the fighting.

As the mast came crashing down, combattants leaped out of its way. But there was one aboard the Corsair vessel who did not leap in time. Andtuariel, the fair Elf, was swept off the plank and plunged downward to the swelling waves.

[Lalwendë]

As the ship drew to a halt, Tarn’s stomach lurched, not with sea-sickness for he was well used to the waves since his days on the whaling boats, but because he knew another battle was coming. He wondered for a moment what was coming over him; he had never been afraid of a fight before. It was the sight of that stone, he knew, that was holding him from wanting to fight. All he wanted to do was to touch the artefact, to find out what was so special about it.

He looked about to see where Marreth may have stowed it, and if he could sneak back down below deck; surely he could look about for it while battle raged? Tarn decided he would go and search fro the stone, but as he moved off, he heard Marreth shouting his threats at the Elves and he saw with dismay that he held the stone.

Tarn’s eyes were fixed upon the Palantir, as were those of several of the sailors; they were seemingly transfixed, and the spell was only broken by the appearance of the captive Elf. All eyes moved towards her as she came slowly forwards in her tattered robe. She stepped onto the plank, vulnerable and fragile. Tarn almost thought for a moment that he would rather have the Elf maiden than the stone, but then this new bewitchment was shattered by the appearance of several furious Elves, armed to the teeth, who came swarming over the side of the ship.

Instinctively, Tarn slipped back into the shadows as far as he could. He saw the Elf who had pummelled him before and grimaced. He would normally have stepped out to face his new sworn foe, but this time he did not want to be seen. He was still in pain, and he knew only too well the fighting skills of this Elf. Tarn needed to use his cunning this time. He found a length of rope and wrapped it around his shoulder; he had an idea of how it might be used, and smiled to himself, pleased that this thought had come to him. Looking inside his coat, he found his knife and checked to see that the blade was filthy before he hid it in the palm of his hand. He was ready for one last fight.

[piosenniel]

The space between the ships was narrowing as The Sea Spirit drew closer to the Corsair vessel. Rôg did not fear that he would be crushed between them where he swam in the small area of water between them; the sides of the ships would touch long before the keels were near enough to cause him problems. He was anxious, though, because the distance between the Elven ship’s side and the plank where Andtuariel stool was becoming critically close.

Again, and in a much louder voice, he urged her to jump. But his words from that distance were hard to hear above the din of the beginning battle. Still, he noted. she had heard something and now glanced down looking to see who had called to her. He pushed himself up as far as he could from the surface of the water and motioned to her with his flipper.

Too late!

He saw her look up and over to where The Spirit drew closer. There was a sudden look of horror on her face as the loud cracking sound that echoed between the ships was quickly followed by the deafening whump as the Elven vessel’s mast crashed to the deck of the Corsair ship. She was frozen in time for a moment, then fell from the plank like a limp rag doll.

Rôg dove deep below the surface of the waves, one eye above to where she might enter the water. Like a leaden weight, her body plunged downward, and, unresisting, was met by his own as he raced upward to bring her to the surface. He moved his body under her floating above the waters surface. He spoke to her, wanting her to take hold of his flipper, so that he might more easily move her to safety, But, there was no response. Desperate, he grabbed her by the neckline of her cloak, and flipping on his back, the main weight of her supported on his underbelly, he swam slowly around the prow of The Spirit to the side of the ship away from the battle.

Rodhal had been watching Rôg from the first, crouched down and peeking over the edge of the deck as he could. He followed the path of the Skinchanger, and seeing the tired fellow trying to keep the Elven maiden afloat, he ran quickly to get his uncle’s help. ‘Down here!’ he cried, tugging Galhardir to the side of the ship by his coat sleeve. ‘He looks tired Uncle and the poor Elf weighs heavily on him. He can barely keep the both of them afloat.’ Galhardir got into the longbot that hung on that side of the ship. Several of the other Lossoth took hold of the ropes and lowered him in a crazy, swinging motion to the water below.

‘Take her!’ Rôg gasped, as Galhardir reached down toward the Elf. ‘Get her out of the water.’ The Elf’s sodden body was pulled as quickly as could be done into the bottom of the boat. Rôg put his hands boat’s edge and hauled himself into it. He was shivering now, his face drawn from the cold, and from the gravity of the situation. Galhardir had taken his own cloak and set it about the man’s shoulders.

‘Nay,’ rasped Rôg, attempting to stand and place the cloak over Andtuariel. ‘She needs it.’ Galhardir pushed the man back down to the seat. ‘Nay, Rôg,’ he said gently, settling the cloak about the huddled figure. ‘She has no need of it now. She has gone where the cold touches her no longer.’ He raised his hand to wave to the Lossoth above, signaling them to raise the boat back to the deck. With great care they bore the Elf’s body to her room and laid her out on her bed, to be seen to later when the press of battle was not upon them.

Rôg, for his part, put his grief at the death of the fair Elven maid aside. There was nothing more he could do for her. But his other companions were now fighting on the Corsair deck. He could still aid them in his own small way. Shaking off the now sodden cloak, he took wing once again as the merlin. Eyes sharp as he circled above the battle, he flew in a tight circle, then darted swiftly down; his beak and talons harrying the Corsairs from above as he could.

[Arry]

In his haste to make his way to where Andtuariel stood on the plank, Annû did not see the man standing in the shadows. But Elwë, a few paces behind him, caught the glimmer of the man’s eyes as they flashed at his friend. The Elf stopped and faced where the Lossoth pressed back, into the darkness. Elwë’s keen eyes narrowed as they picked out the man’s features. This was the one who had tried to beat and injure Annû when the foul Corsairs had tried to invade The Spirit. ‘Come out, you craven worm!’ he challenged the Lossoth. He shook his club at the man, spitting out the words, ‘Face your better, coward!’

-----

Annû’s eyes were on Andtuariel. The Corsairs had turned away from her when the Elves had rushed onto the boat, and now she stood unguarded on the plank. He was almost to the place where the narrow board extended from the ship, when his attention was caught by the loud cracking sound of The Sea Spirit’s mast and the rapid fall of the Elven ship’s spar to the deck of the Corsair vessel. He leapt away from where it crashed and rushed back to help those who had clung to it as it fell up to their feet. They fell upon the Corsairs with a vengeance.

Andtuariel was nowhere to be seen. He could only hope she had somehow gotten to safety. The battled swelled about him, sweeping him up in its ferocity. He wielded his knife and club against the Corsair crew with grim determination, bringing down those whom he could . . .